Stumbling Along The Lines
by Lanafire
Summary: While Rio tries to straighten out her life after recently being put on the streets by her own parents, her life is in an uproar. Rio now has to learn how to deal with this new hand Fate has dealt her, while dealing with the four members of Team Urameshi.
1. Watch Out For The Innocent!

The crimson sun had just started to sink behind the trees as night began to overwhelm the last bits of day.Another sun sets sadly on yet another wasted day, thought Hiei from his perch atop a tree near the edge of a forest. Many a day had he spent in this particular tree, pondering the worth of good and evil, virtues and vices, heaven and hell. Of course, there was no "heaven" as humans thought, merely the spirit world. 

_Foolish humans, _Hiei thought. _What a pity it is that humans can waste a whole lifetime hoping for something that doesn't exist_. He snorted in annoyance.

Slowly Hiei sat up and stretched, his muscles either sore or numb from the hours upon hours of holding the same position. It would soon be time to head back to his accomodations to meet the rest of his comrades. Hiei snorted in laughter in spite of himself. Comrades? More like jailers. They were only united by circumstance, and the sooner the rest of them realized this the better.  
Hiei swiftly maneuvered down from the tree and made his way towards his home. Up until recently he had been staying in a spare room at Koenma's palace. Unfortunately, due to some crackpot's essay in Leadership Magazine (to which Koenma subscribed regularly) Koenma had acquired the idea that living together promoted "teamwork" and "unity".

The arrangement had been made easily for a small condo to be rented in a rural area. The condo overlooked a dangerously steep cliff, beyond which the forest Hiei had just emerged from lay. Even further than that the sparkling lights of the sun upon the water shone form the ocean, creating a picturesque scene. Kurama's human parents had been more than happy to learn that he was awarded a scholarship to a famous "boarding school", and Kuwabara's older sister was aware of the situation at hand. Yusuke hardly went home either way, so it had all been settled in a matter of minutes; Team Urameshi was now living together.  
Far from promoting unity and teamwork, it had just succeeded in giving Hiei another reason to be irked by their presence. Not that it bugged Hiei much anymore, he had become used to the fact. Either way, in his mind the pros (forest, training facilities, solitude and nature) far outweighed the cons (having to live in the same house with other beings). Although as far as Hiei was concerned, there was only one real benefit. He smiled inwardly to himself as he thought of it.

Sweet snow.

* * *

Yusuke whistled happily to himself on his way home from school, silently thanking the playful wind that ruffling through his hair for its antics that morning. He grinned almost lecherously to himself as he thought of the way it had flipped up Keiko's skirt that morning. Of course, Yusuke had paid for what he saw---the rather large red mark on his face attested to that---but, Yusuke mused, it had been worth it. Not just for the unexpected look at Keiko's undergarments, but also for the way Keiko had blushed so furiously afterward.

He raised his hand to his face while saying to himself, "Damn, that girl can slap harder than most of my opponents can punch." Just then, he caught sight of his watch which was promptly flashing MISSION in bold black letters on its screen repeatedly.

Yusuke broke into a run, saying loudly to himself, "Jeez, alright already, I'm coming!" He sprinted off in the direction of the nearest portal to Spirit World, leaving a few unfortunate and confused pedestrians behind him quite startled by his outburst.

* * *

Rio opened her eyes to the setting sun. Breathing deeply, she stretched and smiled. This was the life, she told herself. Rio had just recently moved out from under her parents' roof and struck out on her own. Now, give or take, not everything was quite as luxurious as it had been when she was living in the comfort of her parents' home, but it was worth it. Sitting up, Rio brushed off the old newspapers she had been using as a blanket. Checking to make sure nobody was in the yard, Rio crawled out from under the deck of the house she had been under. Slowly and quietly she had begun to sneak towards the gate only a few yards away when a loud banging of a door sounded and an angry yell issued forth.

"Hey! You! Stop right there, you hoodlum, you bum! When I get my hands on you I'll---"

Rio didn't wait around to see what exactly the housewife was planning to do when she got her hands on Rio, but she guessed that it wouldn't be pleasant. Before the housewife had taken three steps away from her back door Rio was out of the yard and around the corner, running for all she was worth. Eventually, after many a pant and wheeze, Rio came to a stop in front of a public bathhouse. Relishing the idea of a fresh bath, she sparingly paid for her ticket and made her way into the bathhouse. She had come at the right time, the bathhouse was empty. After trying to scrub as much of the muck on her body off as possible, she settled down to soak in the hot, steaming bathwater.

Ruefully Rio grinned as she imagined being chased by a an angry housewife in slippers.  
That poor woman, Rio thought suddenly. She didn't ask for some bum to live under her steps, it's only natural that she would be angry. Sinking lower in the bath, Rio allowed the mimories of the past few days to flow back over her. Everything, from the moment she had told them she didn't want to study Law in college, how she didn't really want to settle down right after getting a degree. Placing her hand over her right cheek she could still remember the smart of the pain as her father slapped her.

His words echoed in her head. "No daughter of mine will disobey me. I have no daughter named Rio, GET OUT!"

Shaking her head out of its slight stupor to bring it back to the present, Rio gave herself a sympathetic smile.

_I know I can make it on my own, she thought. I'll show them wrong. I'll become something so great that they can't help but acknoweledge me as their daughter!_

Rio stood up, clenching her fists at the thought of triumph on the horizon. "Yeah!" She shouted emphatically.  
Too late she realized that she was no longer alone, and an elderly woman gave Rio a shocked look while her two young charges giggled. Rio blushed and quickly got out of the bath.

After dressing quickly, Rio toweled her hair dry. Looking in the mirror, she could hardly believe that the girl looking back at her in the mirror was her own reflection. Short, spiky black hair accented a face with deeply set brown eyes and a face that was slightly too angular. Rio could tell easily that it was not the only part of her body that had decided to loose its healthy curves. She had lost weight. Her shirt hung loosely, and her bra had to be cinched another notch tighter than usual to make it fit comfortably. Her pants seemed to only be held on by the belt sinched tightly about her waist. The outfit she had been wearing the night she left her home now hung loosely on her unhealthy frame. The only thing that still seemed to fit, Rio mused, was her shoes. Sighing, Rio ran her fingers through what was left of her hair. Two days ago she had sold her lusterous black hair for dinner to fill her belly. There were still a few dollars left over, but it hardly seemed fair that she had lost her beautiful hair. After a moment of frowning, she brightened up and smiled at her reflection.Quietly she said to herself, "It's just hair, it'll grow back."

* * *

Yusuke was expecting mass chaos. He was expecting ogres to be running everywhere, running into each other and mixing their stacks of important papers. Yusuke was expecting just about anything except for the scene he encountered as he burst through the double doors into Koenma's office, shouting at the top of his lungs "I'm here!".  
Kurama, Hiei, Kuwabara and Koenma sat close to Koenma's desk, speaking quietly and calmly.

Startled at Yusuke's shout, Koenma looked up at Yusuke and glared. "It's about time! We've been waiting over half an hour! Sit down!"

As Yusuke sat in the only spare chair, Koenma stood and crossed to the wall behind his desk. Tapping it with the eraser of a pencil from his desk he asked it politely to show a map of Tokyo, Japan. As the screen flickered to life, Koenma cleared his throat and began speaking. "As you should remember, about six months ago we uncovered a demon masquerading in Tokyo as a human, breeding with women to have half-human half-demon offspring. I did not realize the severity of this situation until I found out that this demon was just a plant." He looked over with a dramatic sweep of his head only to find bemused looks upon his listeners' faces.

"Er, not a real plant, but a demon only placed there by a higher power to attract our attention. They wanted us to notice someone, to notice something. And we did. This girl!"

Koenma pointed melodramatically at the screen, his dramatic face instantly turning into a mask of horror as an image of himself asleep at his desk flashed onto it.

Trying to ignore the howls of laughter from Yusuke and Kuwabara, he continued. "Oh, nevermind the picture, then," he said awkwardly. After taking a moment to glare at Yusuke and Kuwabara, for their continued laughter, he went on. "We have found a girl of slight suspicion in--"

"Wait, Koenma." Yusuke interjected, his guffaws having turned into the occasional chuckle. "Who placed that other demon there in the first place so that we would notice this girl?"

Koenma looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, in that case it was descovered that it was my father, King Enma. He gives strange hints like that sometimes. Moving back to what I was saying," Koenma continued, trying to avoid further conversation about his father. "We have found a girl of slight suspicion in the general area that we found the other demon in. She has been observed since detection without incident. However," Koenma gave the boys a look that almost dared them to interrupt. "While she has not caused any disruption so far, we cannot allow her to go on much longer being unaware of what she is," he finished.

"But...What is she?" Kuwabara scratched his head in puzzlement.

Koenma coughed. "We...Er, we don't know yet. That's why we need to bring her here for testing as soon as possible. She works at a night club full time, so it won't be hard to find her. This won't be much of a challenge for the four of you, so place try to obtain her without incedent. Please try to make her as cooperative as possible. Kurama has been one of her regular observers and has gained a substantial ammount of trust by doing so. Let him get her outside before you do anything. Lord knows I can't afford to pay for any more property damage," he finished, trailing off with his last sentence.

With that, the team was dismissed.


	2. As It Begins

Rio walked into the Blue Moon bar a few minutes before opening time. She smiled to herself at the dark sky outside-she had always preferred nighttime. As a child she had been plaigued by insomnia and would spend hours on her balcony on nights like this just watching the sky. Going behind the bar, she started to prepare for the night. "Jack, you lazy ass, where are you? I need help getting ready!" she shouted. 

A tall, lanky blond man came out from the back room. "What's this, Rio? I'm your boss and you treat me like a busboy! I'll fire you one of these days, I swear..."

"You know you could never get rid of me," Rio joked. "You love me too much!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say." Jack mumbled. "Oh, Candy and Kira couldn't make it tonight. I'll help you out some, but it'll be just the two of us." Then Jack turned and really looked at Rio. "Hey," he said. "Aren't those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?"

Rio blushed. "Maybe I just like these clothes," she muttered.

Jack came up and pinched her arm. "And you look skinnier, too. Er, not that you were fat before or anything, but you look a little too skinny now." He commented. He put his hand on her forehead to feel her temperature. "Are you feeling OK?" His voice rang with concern.

Pushing him away playfully, she said "Jack, I never get sick. Don't joke so much, I'm fine! I feel great." Just then, her stomach growled almost loud enough to echo around the empty bar.

"Uh huh, yeah, that's what I thought." He said, rolling his eyes. "Make sure you get something to eat tonight. Just do it," he added, seeing her about to protest.

"So," Jack said hurriedly. "Are you ready for some customers?" He didn't wait for a response, instead he went to the lights panel and switched the neon lights spelling Blue Moon into the "on" position. They were officially open for the evening.

Once the customers started coming in, they came in fast and heavy. Soon the bar was thumping with the bass of music playing over the speakers, and the lyrics of the music were almost drowned out by the sound of people talking to each other. Rio was soon caught up with orders for drinks, and heckles from regulars who knew her well. For every time one would heckle Rio, she would throw a snarky comeback right back at them.

As the night wore on and the customers picked up and slowed down, Rio was quite the opposite of being worn down---she thrived off of the energy from the people. Where there was no one to serve, she would strike up a lively conversation with a regular or flirt with a cute college boy.

At around twelve AM the flow of customers started to change. There were less people coming in for a drink and more people looking for someone to spend the night with. Rio was well known for hitting those who dared to make advances upon her over the head with heavy items, and Jack was well known for looking the other way. Soon Rio was bored with nobody to serve and all the customers' attention on each other.

Gazing at the entrance, Rio willed someone interesting to walk through it. At that exact moment, fate decided to smile upon the young woman and through the doors walked another regular of the bar. Much younger and considerably more attractive than most of the other regulars, he stood out. Shoulder blade-length red hair caught the eye, while a thin athletic frame kept its gaze. Rio flashed him a grin as he met her gaze and waved. As he made his way to the bar, Rio laughed to herself, seeing all of the women's heads turn as he walked past.

"I was wondering if you'd show up tonight, Red." Rio commented, calling him by the first nickname that came to mind. Customers didn't always want to share information, so Rio found it much easier to call them by whatever nickname popped into her head at the moment. "What can I get for you?"

Kurama smiled at her. "Just some water for me will be fine."

"What, no shots? You must not be trying to drown your sorrows in the bottle like Baldie over there." Rio hitched her thumb in the direction of a man near the end of the bar, hiccoughing as he talked to one of the many shot glasses splayed around him.

"Afraid not," Kurama's green eyes flashed as they met her. "I'm just here for some good company."

Rio put a glass filled with ice water on the bar in front of him. The chips of ice clinked against the glass as she said, " Really now, well I--"

A call came from a yard or so away for more beer, and she excused herself. After pulling out three or four Bobweizer beers from a fridge and handing them to the young college boy who requested them, she made her way back towards Red.

After standing in front of him for about five seconds, she realized he didn't notice she was there. His face could only be described as a worried grimace. After waving her hand in front of his face for a few moments, he snapped back to reality. "Welcome back to earth, space cadet!" She announced while the redhead grinned ruefully.

"Sorry about that, i just had to check up on the asteroid belt." He said with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

"Just so long as all those little asteroids are happy, it's fine." She smiled. "How have you been lately? I noticed that you seem less composed than usual." She continued.

The conversation continued for quite a while, jumping from one subject to the next. Only when it was time for last call did Rio realize how late it truly was.

"Hey," She interjected. "Shouldn't you be fast asleep in bed?"

"I guess it is pretty late, after all. The conversations I have here some nights make me forget all about time. I guess you'll be going home soon too, then?" He brought up casually.

"Yeah, home." Rio said noncomittally, letting a slightly bitter note seep into her voice.**  
**

"Troubles at home?"

"Oh, of course not. I'm just as fine as I always was," She answered evasively, with a laugh.

The bar closed soon after, and Rio said goodbye with a smile and wave to Kurama before switching off the neon sign and sweeping the floor. Soon the bar was clean, and Rio began to put on her coat.

"Jack, I'm out!" She called, making her way towards the door.

"Wait, Rio!" Jack called, coming out from behind the bar. "Your paycheck," he reminded her, placing it in her hand.

"But Jack, I don't get paid until next week." Rio gave him a puzzled look.

"Just take it, girlie. And take care of yourself, too." His eyes shone with concern.

Rio rolled her eyes at him. "Of course I'll take care of myself. Don't worry so much, you'll go bald." she punched his arm before leaving.

"I'll be fine."

Looking back, Rio didn't realize just how much she was tempting fate.

Rio stepped outside of the Blue Moon and breathed deeply. She was tired, but happy. Jack had paid her early, so she had enough cash for an early breakfast before she found somewhere to sleep for the rest of the night.

"You know, it's dangerous for a pretty girl like yourself to walk home alone. Would you like an escort?" said a voice from beside her.

Rio smiled as she recognized the young redhead from the bar earlier that evening. "Afraid not," she said, while thinking how bad it would be for him to discover that she had no home to be walked to. "But I'm just about to get breakfast, if youd care to join me."

"Only if you don't mind, and I get to pick the place. I have somewhere in mind." Kurama said, smiling.

"Please, lead away," she beckoned him onward.

As she followed him down the street for a block or two Rio said softly "Thank you for waiting for me. That was very kind of you."

Kurama threw a quick glance her way of what almost looked like guilt. Rio rubbed her eyes; she was sleepier than she thought. She turned into an alleyway, following Kurama, following him for a few seconds before she realized that not only had Kurama stopped, but he had turned to face her. Even before she noticed that they were two other shadowed figures in the alleyway alarm bells started going off in her head. Immediately she began to take steps backwards to make her escape.

"H-haha, n-now Red, you wouldn't mug your favorite bartender, would you? I mean--" She bumped into something--no, someone. Another person, there to mug her. Now, for some stupid reason her mind flashed back to her making a joke of getting kidnapped earlier.

_karma, _she thought_, you are a bitch._

"Miss Rio, I'm afraid you misunderstood. We do not wish to harm you, we simply need you to come with us." Kurama pleaded.

_How the hell do they know my name?_ Rio wondered. Then it dawned upon her. This was no normal mugging--this was planned. They weren't here just for her money. _They came to kidnap me_, she realized.

"I'll never go anywhere with you, bastard!" Rio said vehemently, dodging past the man behind her to escape from the alleyway.

"Hiei, don't!" she heard someone yell. She had just enough time to wonder who Hiei was before her whole world went pitch black and her confused mind was shot spinning into the darkness.


	3. What Happened Next

Hey guys! I'm really sorry about disappearing for two months, but I was on vacation. (Well, some of it was vacation. The rest of it was strenuous study...ugh) You'll be getting regular updates now, so never fear! Thanks for sticking with the story! D If you have any ways you think I could improve, by the way, please say so! I'd always love to hear how I can make it better for you. Are these chapters long enough for you?

* * *

"Morning Dad," Rio said as she walked into the kitchen and started to pour herself a cup of coffee. 

He grunted, rifling through the newspaper in his hands. "Pour me a cup of coffee," he said.

"Yes sir, want any sugar?" she said, taking down another coffee cup from the cabinet.

The early morning sun glinted in through the window and off of the counter, making her squint. She heard the shuffling of her mother's slippers as she came in the room.

"Morning," Rio said brightly.

Her mother didn't reply. "Have you shown them to her yet?" She asked her husband almost accusingly, as if something were his fault.

"No," replied her father unsatisfactorily.

Rio started to pour coffee into one of the cups. "Show me what," she asked, glancing from her mother to father. Both of them were wearing angry expressions "Did something happen?" She asked quickly, her heartbeat speeding up.

Standing up, her father folded the newspaper and set it aside. Turning to look at her, he threw something down on the table. "Do you recognize these," he said quietly, dangerously.

On the table were brochures to famous (and not-so famous) art colleges. Her heartbeat kicked up another notch.

"Uh...no? Where did they come from?" Rio tried to act nonchalant. There was a sudden burning pain on the back of her hand--the coffee had overrun its mug and scalded her hand. It felt like a thousand pins and needles. She jerked her hand away and put the coffee pot down.

"We took you in," her father began, stepping closer to her. "We fed you, we clothed you, even treated you like you were our own daughter..." His voice raised several notches, "And now you dare to lie to our faces?" He shouted in Rio's face.

"Dear, remember your blood pressure," Rio's mother reminded him gently, looking concernedly at his beet-red face before rounding on Rio, every trace of tenderness gone from her features. "How could you do this, Rio? We raised you from a baby. You have always been my daughter. All we asked of you is to be a respectable daughter and get a good degree, as something respectable, like a doctor or even a lawyer! We would have even been happy with you wanting to be a wife," she said, her voice rising steadily as she spoke. "And you repay us with THIS?" She yelled, picking up the brochures and throwing them in Rio's face. "We forbade you to follow this path, Rio! Artists are nothing but scum, leeching off of our good society!"

Rio flinched at her mother's fury. Slowly she bent down and picked up the brochures, smoothing out the newly formed creases.

"I'm sorry, " Rio began. "But--"

"You're sorry? You're SORRY? IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY? YOU--"

"I AM sorry," Rio continued, interrupting the beginning of her mother's tirade. "BUT I can't do what you want me to do. It's not for me. I want to follow my dreams." She said sadly, resolutely.

There was a loud smack. Time seemed to slow as the sound rang in her ears as the force from her father's hand burned her cheek the instant it made contact. She fell to the floor, her knee landing in more scalding coffee that had dripped from the counter onto the linoleum. She cried out from the pain of it. Whether from the pain of her cheek or her knee, she couldn't tell.

"No daughter of mine will disobey me, " her father yelled, red-faced at the top of his lungs. "I HAVE no daughter named Rio, GET OUT!"

His blotchy red face became blurry and started to fade. She could no longer distinguish anything about the room, and it started to go dark. Her hand and knee burned like fire.

_No Daddy, I love you. Don't make me leave--I'm your daughter! Don't you love me? _

_...Daddy?_

"_Don't you love me?_" Rio cried outsearching for his answer. For _any_ answer. _  
_

She felt a hand smooth back her hair comfortingly. The sharp pains of her mind gently melted away.

"It's okay now," a voice whispered.

Rio fell back into a much sweeter slumber, filled with much happier dreams.

* * *

Rio's home was much quieter since she had left. Her family passed the days, pretending that nothing had changed. Her parents had bluntly refused to answer any questions from their children of Rio's whereabouts from the day she had disappeared almost two weeks earlier. They stopped asking, one-by-one, after threats of severe punishment.

Her mother and father sat together on the couch in their den, watching an early-evening TV show. Ever few minutes her mother would look chidingly at her father. After quite a few attempts to catch his eye, she finally yanked the remote from his hand and turned off the TV.

"You _know_ we have to tell _him_, Bo." She said, giving him a meaningful look.

"He won't be happy, Doris," he reminded her. "She was supposed to stay here at all costs. He'll be _very_ angry." He gulped as a few images of fury passed before his mind's eye.

"It's better than him finding out on his own," she said. "IF we tell him now, he may not be as angry," she reasoned.

Bo snorted, as if the idea would have been laughable if it were not such a serious situation. "Impossible," he said. "But you are right. It will be worse for us if he finds out on his own."

"Are you going to try tonight?"

"I'll have to. He'll be checking soon, you know how he is..."

"Don't worry, when he finds her he'll need us again, so he can't do anything too bad to us." Doris kissed him lightly on the lips and went upstairs to check on her children.

Bo got up and shuffled towards an adjoining room, his shoulders hunched together in stress and worry.

* * *

_It feels so good to sleep in a bed again,_ Rio thought. _The blankets are so much warmer than the newspapers, and the room isn't drafty like it is out in the open..._

_Wait._

Beds? _Blankets_? No _draft_? Where was she?

Rio shot into a sitting position as she was jerked from her warm slumber with sudden realization.

The room she woke up in was very plain and clean looking, instantly reminding Rio of a hospital. It was of an average size, no bigger than her bedroom at home, although it seemed that way due to the sparse furniture. There was a bed, a nightstand with a lamp on it, a dresser, and a window seat. A few chairs were pushed up against the far wall, probably for visitors.

Noticing that she had been changed into plain white pajamas, (which eerily seemed to have been made for her,) Rio looked frantically for her backpack, finding it next to the bed beside a pair of slippers. Rifling through it, she found that nothing had been confiscated except for the dirty clothing she had stored in there.

_Not too much of a loss there,_ Rio thought. They had even left her most recent paycheck.

Dropping her backpack back to the floor, Rio climbed out of the bed and walked to the window. There were metal bars across the outside of it, and the window itself was locked, so she couldn't even raise the first layer of glass. Nobody walked over the grass or through the garden off to the left that she could see, though.

_Figures that it's locked,_ she grumbled to herself.

Outside of the glass, though, there was a plush green lawn with a gigantic fountain of three mystical-looking women holding brooms that spouted sparkling water into the air up above their heads.

Trying to brainstorm, she looked around the rest of the room. The white walls were bare, and the soft white carpet held no secrets for her there.

"Shit!" She cried out, yanking her hand back, the skin prickling with the sharp electric charge that had been sent through it.

_Won't be getting out that way,_ she thought to herself.

Examining her hand she noticed that she had burn scars on it from the coffee. When touched, the skin was much hotter than the unburned skin around it.

_That's strange, _she thought. _The coffee wasn't _that_ hot, was it? Maybe it was. I can't remember anymore..._

Rio dismissed it from her mind, sighing to herself as she sat back down on the bed. She rubbed her temples as the last memories of her earlier dreams were purged from her memory.

_This looks like it's going to be a long wait,_ Rio thought as she laid back down and stared up at the stark white ceiling.


	4. A whisper of what once was

I went back to chapters one and two and fixed the little holes in the plot and spelling errors. Nothing too big, but I did made chapter one much MUCH easier to read.

* * *

"So, what do we do now?" 

Yusuke's slightly troubled expression reflected in the water from the fountain as he looked up.

Kuwabara sat on the edge of the Three Ferrygirls fountain. "Well, I dunno about you guys, but I don't feel too good about this. I mean, we kidnapped this girl when she didn't even do anything!" He said, his voice rising to try and drive his point home.

"He has a point, you know," Yusuke commented to his other two companions.

"Heh, the buffoon is just worried about his _honor_," Hiei said scathingly.

Kuwabara jumped up and shouted at Hiei. "Oh yeah? Well, at least I HAVE honor, you pipsqueak!" A slight blush bloomed across his cheeks.

"Hn," Hiei's eyes narrowed and his hand strayed towards his sword.

"Hiei," Kurama said calmly, wordlessly cautioning him. His eyes drifting towards the window that Rio was surely behind.

"Fine," Hiei turned away, disgruntled.

"However," Kurama continued. "Don't be at a loss. We are helping someone who was not only possibly dangerous to others, but to herself."

"Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't seem so bad..." Kuwabara relented.

"No, it doesn't." Kurama said quietly, watching the water flow from the tips of the marble broom handles.

"Have they run any tests yet?" Yusuke inquired, uncharacteristically calm.

"They're observing right now, but the test should begin as soon as they know it's safe."

The four spirit detectives looked up as they heard steps coming towards them on the cobblestone path.

"Yes, all that is correct," stated Koenma as he walked up to the group around the fountain. The midday sun glinted off of his pacifier as he spoke. "As circumstances stand, though, we may not have to. We are hoping that she will display inhuman activity before we have to start testing, because, well, frankly, there are so many things to test for, and most of the test can hardly be said to be pleasant or...safe."

"Hey, you're not going to hurt her, are you?" Kuwabara demanded.

"Well of course we'll try not to," Koenma said, looking the other way across the lush green lawn towards the medical ward.

* * *

"So," he said with satisfaction plainly evident in his tone of voice. "You're trying to say that after begging and pleading for a chance for redemption, after betraying me to save your skin, and successfully getting said chance at redemption, you've messed it all up again?" His voice rang out in an amused tone. 

"Shut your trap, Whit." Bo growled threateningly.

"But why should I?" Whit chuckled happily to himself. "You're the one in trouble now. This time, you can't even blame it on me!" A hint of vindictive glee glittered in his voice, just like the satisfaction in his eyes.

Bo groaned and leaned his head against the hard wall. _What is the point in all of this,_ he wondered. He had too many enemies to be welcome here, he reminded himself. People he and his wife had stepped on, climbing the ladder of success. Too many things had changed in eighteen years. Some of those people were still around, and were not above holding an old grudge.

"What do you want, Whit?"

"You," Whit said without hesitation.

"What? You still...After all this time...?" Bo scrambled for words, all of his ready-made replies thrown from his mind.

Whit laughed a different laugh. Not the young, happy laugh he had used moments before, but a harsher, more bitter laugh. "No, I want you put down. Spat on. I want to see you suffer like I did. And then I want to see you die."

"Oh," Bo said, all intelligent replies driven from his head.

"You know, I wanted to die so many times after you left. My punishment was not light, oh no. No matter how many times I told them it wasn't my fault, that I hadn't done anything..." Whit's voice trailed off and he crossed his arms in an effort to bar the memories from his mind. "Our master saw my unwavering dedication to him even in my punishment, though, and had mercy. He gave me another chance," Whit said quietly, his voice going slightly hoarse.

Bo had no reply for this information. His mind flashed back to the events eighteen long years ago that had led up to this. He remembered how young he had been. How young they had all been. Young and foolish. Pangs of guilt plagued his mind as he glanced at Whit. His once toned and muscular form was thin and undefined, his beautiful, expressive golden eyes were dulled by pain and mistrust. His complexion was now pale and sickly, when before it had been golden-brown and healthy. His stance was still confident, but now it was cautious and on the alert. No new wrinkles had appeared on his handsome face, but there were dark circles under his eyes and his full lips were turned down in bitterness. Bo wondered if he had smiled at all in all these years.

Suddenly, words rushed up to the tip of his tongue. Words of apology, of pleading for forgiveness, wanting to acknowledge just how horrible he had been, promises to make it up to him filled his mind. He looked up to Whit, pleading in his eyes, wanting to make him understand...But Whit had turned his back to Bo, still reliving the bitter things he had experienced. His hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to Whit, almost touching him, before he realized what he was doing. He bitterly dropped his gaze and let his arm fall back to his side.

_It's too late, there's nothing to say,_ Bo reminded himself. _Nothing you can do will make up for his pain._

Suddenly, Whit straightened up and turned around, all traces of emotion gone from his face except for a bit of accusation in his eyes. "The lord will see you now," he said stiffly, passing by Bo to press the elevator button.

The doors opened and Bo followed Whit into the elevator, watching him use a key card to access the top floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. Neither of them looked at the other, and Bo could feel the cold dread welling up in his chest, blotting out all other worries as he watched the floors pass by, bringing him ever closer to what was surely his impending doom.

Even though each second ticked by as if it were an hour, soon the elevator doors were swishing open with a soft metallic clack and ding, revealing the interior of the room.

"Enter," a voice called out from the softly lighted room.

Bo made no move to go in, for he was frozen solid with fear. After a moment, Whit roughly pushed him and he stumbled into the room.

"I hope you get what you deserve, bastard." Bo heard Whit say, his voice choking as he said it. The elevator doors clanked shut with the same metallic sounds.

"Well, are you just going to stand there?" He heard Daichi chuckle softly.

* * *

_I wonder how many hours of boredom it takes to start hallucinating things,_ Rio thought. 

"I'm BORED," she shouted at nothing in particular. "If you're going to kidnap me, steal my clothes and hold me against my will, at LEAST give me some crayons!" She shouted at the ceiling.

To her astonishment, in reply to her request the door clicked open just long enough for a box of soft pastels to be shoved through the door. Taken by surprise, Rio had no chance to make it across the room in time to catch the door before it was shit again. She slammed into the door a good half-second after it had closed.

Rio banged her fist on the door. "Damn it!" She yelled, leaning her forehead against the door in frustration. She pounded the door a few more times to relieve her frustration before looking down at the pastels.

"What do they expect me to do without paper?" She wondered aloud. Then her brain sparked, and she looked around her at the white walls.

_Let's give this place some color,_ she thought mischievously. After all, it wasn't _her_ room.

Soon the pastels were splayed around her as she sat, Indian style on the floor in front of the wall opposite her only window. Rio smiled at the feel of the pastel in her hand, rolling it back and forth between her fingers, watching as it left its residue on her fingertips. She hadn't been allowed to have art supplies at home, not even colored pens. She had always guiltily eyed the racks of brightly colored art supplies in stores, and watched longingly as little girls played with fingerpaints. She had stared in awe at the sheer amount of color in the portraits at art exhibits she had snuck off to see. Now that she finally had some of those coveted art supplies in her hands, even if it was something so small as a soft pastel, excitement flowed through her, activating her adrenaline. Creativity crackled in her brain like a freshly-kindled fire. She crowed in delight, forgetting when and where it was for a moment as she placed the first stroke of color upon the white wall.

As she drew, she let her hands take over for her. Drawing like this felt natural. Soon, she started to be able to make out what she was seeing in the picture. A young man, no more than twenty with a strong, summer-tanned body and windswept blond hair was reaching out to a figure in the distance. It wasn't the man's body that attracted Rio's eyes as she drew, though. It was his face. His face was filled with longing and sorrow. A single tear trickled down his cheek, revealing the storm of emotions going on inside of him.

The figure in the distance was even more perplexing to Rio. He was also young, but he was paler and had a thinner body. He was looking back at the blond man, holding out a hand to him as someone pulled his other arm. His whole form radiated indecision, and his face was contorted with the battle raging in his mind.

As Rio turned to draw the person pulling the man away, she snapped out of her reverie to realize she'd hit the other wall. Looking up in awe, she realized that she had filled the entire wall with her drawing. Looking at it, Rio couldn't believe something of this magnitude had come from her mind. She stood and crossed to stand in front of the young blond man, reaching out her fingers to touch his tear-stained face.

_Did I really draw this?_ she wondered. How could it be possible, when these people in her drawing seemed so real? The entire concept of her being able to create something of this magnitude the first time she'd used art supplies was simply baffling.

A great rumbling startled Rio out of her thought, and only then did she realize how late it was. The room was now lit by fluorescent lights, and her back and arms ached with the strain of the day. Her stomach rumbled again, making Rio look around for food. next to the bed on the night stand was a plate with sandwiches and a pitcher of water with a cup next to it.

Gratefully, Rio ate her meal. As she ate, she noticed how many wrappers and leftover pastels there were littered on the floor. She realized as she ate that they must have brought her more as she drew in her seemingly trance-like state. Growling with annoyance at her missed chances at escape, she scarfed down the last few bits of her sandwich and swallowed one last gulp of water. She fell back into the covers of her bed and was almost instantly asleep.


	5. The Hypothesis

I am absolutely _amazed_ that I got this out on time, much less early! And plus, it's longer than any of the other chapters so far, so I hope you like it!

* * *

The room was silent. The three psychologists, Koenma, Botan, Kurama, and George, Koenma's faithful ogre assistant. 

"You mean to tell me that she did _this_ in seven hours?" Koenma said incredulously.

"Yep," said the youngest psychologist, leaning back in his chair and whistling appreciatively.

"Are there any records of her being an artist or in clubs or something?" Botan asked in a hushed voice.

"Not that we know of. We've been able to find records of her Jr. High and High School years, but none of them so much as included a single art class. Her home didn't have anything on the walls, not even pictures. When we searched her room we didn't even find so much as a colored pencil. As far as we can tell, this is the first time she's ever drawn, much less used pastels…" he concluded, unsatisfied as he searched for the answer.

"But that's impossible," One of the other psychologists said in wonder and disbelief.

"Not if she's a genius," Kurama spoke up. "Think about it. It's not as if Van Gogh or Da Vinci ever had lessons. This isn't necessarily anything more than an artistic gift."

"The changes of that being realized right after we apprehend her are highly improbable. Not to mention the odds of her as a normal human being having that level of talent to begin with," said one of the other psychologists.

"But it's _not_ impossible," Kurama continued. "What is there to say that this is more than just natural talent?"

"Well, nothing so far," the younger psychologist admitted.

"Then we must be forced to assume," Kurama concluded, "that she hasn't shown any activity or potential outside of a normal human being's."

"Yes, but the chances…" The oldest psychologist trailed off lamely, mumbling to himself as if he were trying to figure out a word puzzle.

The door clicked open and three figures came in, one of them whispering as loudly as he normally spoke.

"Sorry, we couldn't find the room!"

An irritated pulse mark appeared on the side of Koenma's head and he shouted at the three. "What are you three doing here? I only asked Kurama to come!"

"Oh, no wonder Kurama ditched us in the hallway," Kuwabara said thoughtfully, the pieces falling into place for him.

"We thought we could help," Yusuke said innocently. "That and we wanted to know what was up," He muttered, grinning.

"Don't you have more important things to do?" Koenma berated Yusuke.

"Nope, not a thing in the world," he grinned.

"Wow, hey, did you paint this picture?" Kuwabara said, pointing at the first psychologist.

He jumped, startled out of his reverie by Kuwabara's question. "Of course not," he said, laughing. "If I did, trust me, I wouldn't be in _this_ dead-end job!" He seemed to catch himself as the room stiffened and Koenma stared. "Er, no offense, bossman." He said, looking guiltily at Koenma.

"Mmm," Koenma said noncommittally.

The young man adjusted his glasses and shuffled some papers, trying to dispel the awkwardness that filled the room. Much younger than the other two psychologists in the room, it was obvious that he had recently graduated from school. He was disheveled, as if his alarm clock hadn't gone off on time that morning. The nametag bearing his name, Bryce Key, was askew, bringing only more attention to the fact that his button-up shirt was wrinkled and his tie had been tied wrong. Much too thin, His snow-white skin stretched much too thinly over much-too-visible collarbones and gaunt face. Midnight black unkempt hair and dark eyes were a start contrast to the rest of his appearance, except for the dark circles under his eyes and slight sign of stubble along his jaw. His messy hair especially accented his "Einstein" appearance as he told Kuwabara about the portrait.

"No, I didn't do this. That girl you guys kidnapped—"Koenma coughed conspicuously at his choice of words. "…Er, I mean, _apprehended_," he glanced at the name on the file he was holding. "Rio. She drew this in four hours yesterday. First time she had ever used any kind of art supply, far as we can tell. Seems impossible, doesn't it?" He slipped in, trying to get Kuwabara to agree with his hypothesis unknowingly.

Yusuke ignored Bryce, yawning and putting his hands behind his head while walking forward and leaning close to the screen to examine the blond man's face.

"Hey, Kuwabara. C'mere. Look at him." He pointed to the blond man.

"What about him?"

"Well…Doesn't he look familiar?"

Kuwabara leaned in closer and inspected the screen. The tension in the room thickened until it was almost palpable. "Yeah, he kinda looks like that guy…"

"What guy?" Koenma said the excitement audible in his voice.

"Iunno. Dun remember exactly where I saw him," he said. "But he definitely looks like a guy I've seen." He finished lamely.

"I hadn't considered the possibility of this being a vision," Bryce muttered, the obvious answer taking him by surprise. "Had either of you considered it?" he asked, looking at the other two psychologists.

Both men, significantly older seemed slightly disgruntled with their younger coworker, but neither one of them nodded in response to his question.

"You can't be sure until you identify them," Kurama reminded the group, extremely reluctant to agree to the possibility that Rio had inhuman powers. "It could be a coincidence that this man looks like a real person."

"You, spirit detective," Bryce pointed at Yusuke. "Who does he look like? How much does he look like him?"

"I never heard his name," Yusuke said thoughtfully. "But…See this?" He pointed to a tiny white scar on the corner of the blond man's jaw, near his ear. "The guy I'm thinking of had one of those. Although his hair was longer," Yusuke admitted. "I think I may have seen him at some minor bust a while back that Koenma assigned me to…I can't say for sure, though."

"So, this girl has visions? Does she see the future or the past, I wonder? This could be very beneficial to me…" Koenma said to himself, already contemplating the possibilities.

"Koenma sir!" Botan said, reprovingly. "She's not _property_," her scandalized expression reflected the feelings of many in the room.

"Oh, yes, of course not, Botan, what gave you such a silly notion?" He laughed while patting her on the head.

"This almost makes it a sure thing. Koenma, I'll need Yusuke's case files to look into. I need to find out where he may have seen him, so that I might possibly track him down. I'll need you two," He looked towards the other psychologists, "to keep an eye on her and research any clairvoyant, psychic or seer-like behavior."

"I knew there was a reason I promoted you to head of department, Dr Key!" Koenma patted Bryce on the shoulder.

"Uh…Thank you, sir." Bryce said, uncomfortably aware of the glares of his coworkers.

The room emptied quickly, George informing Koenma that he was late for a meeting with his father, the two older psychologists eager to be rid of his presence, and the spirit detectives with Botan, having nothing more to do in the room. Only Kurama hung back, wanting to speak with Bryce alone.

Bryce was already looking over Rio's case file, oblivious to Kurama's continued presence.

"Ahem," Kurama coughed politely to catch his attention.

Bryce jumped, uttering a startled yelp and falling out of his chair simultaneously. Picking himself up from the floor, he asked "Yes? Can I help you?"

As he watched the young man dust himself off, Kurama took a deep breath. "I want to see her," he said, looking Bryce straight in the eye.

"Access to patients under surveillance is strictly prohibited, it could compromise the resear—"

"Please! She doesn't have any idea why she's here or what she's done, and she deserves to know at least _something_," Kurama said, unexpectedly going for an emotional argument, rather than a cold, rational one.

"Protocol states that—"

"Forget protocol! This is a horrible job, and the rules are useless! Don't you care that this girl is being held _captive_?"

Kurama's last comment had obviously hit its mark, because Bryce fell back into his chair, and didn't speak for several moments.

"I…Can't help you," Bryce said slowly. "But if the camera were to malfunction between, say, four-ten and four-thirty this afternoon and the electrified lock was to disengage…And I just _happened_ not to notice that until four-thirty, well, then that's just lost data, isn't it? It'd be a real shame." He said, looking up at Kurama, grinning. "I hate my job. People are not test subjects or animals to observe. I expect you to repay this favor someday."

"You have my word and the word of a kitsune," Kurama said seriously.

"Hah, the word of a fox is useless. I'll take yours, though. Now, get out, I have work to do." He shooed Kurama out of the observation room without a backwards glance.

* * *

"_Why are you leaving me? What did I do? You said—"_

"_Forget what I said! I'm in this for me and me alone!" The words echoed. _

"_Don't…Don't leave! I have to have you, I love you!" he choked on a sob. _

"_Well, that's too bad, because _he_ loves_ me_." She said, pulling her lover close to her. _

"_No! You're lying! You have to be! I know you would never do this to me…" Uncertainty crept into his voice._

_The echoes of the words were now blending into a voice made of many. _

"_What once was will be again, but only if you chose the wrong path.__" _

Rio wanted to call out, to ask who those voices were, and what the echo meant, but something was pressing against her mouth. The more she fought to speak, the harder she was pressed down. It was almost suffocating…

A gasp issued from Rio as she sat up, drenched in a cold sweat. Both hands clambered at the one over her mouth, but her eyes followed up its arm to see the owner.

"_You_," Rio said lowly, spitting the word out with as much dislike as possible. Then she leapt at him, hands reaching for his throat. He caught her hands, but couldn't stop her from screaming at him. "You BASTARD son of a HARLOT!" How _dare_ you bring me here against my will! I'm going to rip you to shre—" her screams were abruptly cut off by him pressing her face to his shoulder, muffling the insults while his other arm kept her pressed to hi so she couldn't retaliate with a viselike grip.

"Please don't be so loud," he spoke quickly, his words hissing oddly as he said them through his teeth. "They might discover me here, and that would be very bad for both of us. You have every right to hate me," he said. "I lied and tricked you into trusting me, and then I used it against you. I know it was horrible of me, but I have to try and make it right. Please, hear me out."

The rage clouding Rio's mind slowly started to settle and clear as Kurama spoke. Pressed to his shoulder, she could smell his scent mingling with the smell of roses. It had a calming effect, and Rio ceased to struggle, contenting herself to hear him out.

Heartened by her lack of struggle, he continued. "You're in a place called Spirit World. It's not on earth. You were placed here under observation because they think you might not be human."

Rio made muffled protests to what was obviously a bunch of bull, but Kurama continued.

"Most of the people here aren't human. How do you think you drew all of that yesterday? Do you draw often?" He seemed to wait for a response, or maybe to let it soak in. "No? Is that normal? You could be a master artist with skills like that. They think that's a vision. Do you know why you drew that, or who they are? Do you have dreams that tell you things? Nobody _knows_ what you are, but _everybody_ wants to find out." He finished.

Rio was limp in Kurama's arms, having no fight left in her after the draining series of questions that she had no answer to. She had thought he was just crazy at first, but his unrelenting questions made her wonder. How had she drawn that? Why had she drawn that? She remembered feeling like the drawing was its own creation, not _her_ creation. Why was all this happening to her? Tears of frustration budded under her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks, leaving dark stains on his shirt. She sniffled.

"Shh, shh…" Kurama said comfortingly, stroking the back of her head while his grip lessened and became more comforting as he sat on the side of her bed. "There's nothing to cry about, I'll get you out of this…I promise," he added, pulling back to look her in the tear-stained eyes. "I promise you," he said again.

Conflicting emotions rose from deep within her, telling her to do opposite things.

_Trust him!_ Yelled one.

_He betrayed you once, he could do it again!_ Yelled another.

_He came to see you! He knows what he did wrong; he wants to get you out of here!_

"I hate you," she said, her voice cracking so much that she could barely speak. "I hate you for putting me here," she cracked. "But if you can get me out you might be able to start making it up to me."

His hands that were still around her waist tightened, and for a split second she thought he was going to pull her close once again. Instead, he looked her in the eye, whispering "I won't fail." He released her quickly and headed for the door. "Speak of this to no one," he said, glancing back at her only once before closing the door behind him.


	6. New and Old Faces

Stumbling Along the Lines

Chapter 6

Koenma sat at his desk, twirling a pencil in his fingers. He was leaning over the polished wood, chin propped up by the palm of his hand as he stared dreamily off into space. Several minutes passed before Koenma spoke.

"Ogre!" he said, looking at George with a snap.

George jumped, startled by Koenma's sudden speech. "Yes sir?" he stood, trying to catch the papers he had thrown into the air.

"What do you think that girl's—Reo or Ranni, whatever her name was—powers are?"

George froze, obviously not used to people asking his personal opinion on things. "W-well, I think that there's a lot to consider," he said slowly, as if he half expected Koenma's question to be a rhetorical one. "They haven't studied her movements or compared them to all of our _documented_ psychics," he said. "And nobody's studied anything based on her dreams or thought processes yet; there just hasn't been enough time."

Koenma nodded, seemingly paying attention. "I just can't stop thinking about how _easy_ it'll be to catch criminals with someone who can watch their every mood!" Koenma crowed exultantly.

"B-but sir, er, Koenma sir, you haven't offered her a job, and it's not sure that she even _has_ any p—"

"Minor details," Koenma said jovially, refusing to have his mood put down. "It'll be easy to get her to work here." He said, his words no longer directing themselves towards George, but towards his thoughts. "She won't belong on earth anymore, she won't know where to go, and if she still doesn't want to and blackmail won't work, we can implant a false memory that we saved her life or something," he half-plotted.

"Koenma sir, that's…That's _wrong_!" George said his jaw dropping.

Koenma stopped mid-reverie and stared at George, his eyes narrowing. Slowly he stood from his chair and walked over to the poor ogre, leaning in close. "I don't think you understand, Ogre! I don't run a soup kitchen here. I run a _government_. To keep everything working by doing all the things that we do, we need to _function_. We can't function without _employees_. And I will get those employees _any way possible. _Also, if you happen to let this slip or even mention it to another soul in your entire life," The papers in George's hands were shaking so hard that it was Koenma had to raise his voice. "I'll grab you by your leopard-skin undies and throw you to the craziest, most dangerous demon I can find! Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes sir! I understand!" Said George, leaning away from Koenma so far that he fell backwards, accidentally throwing his papers into the air once more.

As Koenma sat back down at his desk, George looked up at the ceiling, watching the papers floating down to settle on his face and body. "My name is George," he said quietly.

* * *

The door creaked open noisily and Dr. Ventura peered into the dark room. The young prodigy, Dr. Bryce Key was in front of a large computer monitor, absorbed in a video of the young woman drawing on the wall. Every few seconds he would pause the video to make a note on one of the many sheets around him. As much as Dr Ventura disliked him for surpassing him at such a young age, he couldn't help but admit how brilliant Bryce was. No matter what anyone said, Dr. Ventura knew deep down that Bryce deserved the job he had more than any of the other psychologists, including himself. 

"I have the research on the best known clairvoyants, psychics and seers for you," Dr Ventura said, stepping into the room, flipping on the light switch as he did so.

Bryce looked up, blinking and squinting, trying to see who had turned on the light. "What did you say?" He queried.

"The research. I have your research." He prompted, his dislike seeded from jealousy ebbing slightly as his eyes scanned over the deep lines in the young man's face. They didn't belong on such a young face and made a startling impression of one quickly aging. After placing the stack of papers on a nearby desk, he patted Bryce's shoulder in an almost fatherly way. "You need to rest. You're dead on your feet."

"I'll sleep after I finish this video," Bryce said, fatigue fraying the edges of his voice. His eyes wandered towards the stack of research papers, obviously eager to begin on them also. "Don't worry about me; I'm just here to do my job." He said, making an attempt at a smile, but it turned out as more of a grimace.

The wash of empathy suddenly faded, and Dr. Ventura stepped back, grimacing himself. "However you wish." He started stepping towards the door.

Bryce's mind was so clouded over with fatigue that he hadn't noticed the other doctor's tone change. "Thank you," he said sincerely as Dr. Ventura closed the door. Bryce was not sure he had heard him.

* * *

Amused chuckles reverberated around the room and gave the effect that the whole room was laughing. Bo, who was still stiff with fear, shuddered at the sound. 

"Please, come and sit with me! I'd be delighted to have your company." Daichi's silken voice was easily heard across the large room. "I'd be delighted to have your company. How about some wine?" Daichi's voice was light and jovial, like that of a dinner host. Bo walked further into the room, towards the shadowy figure lounging on a dark leather sofa. Confusion was apparent in his eyes as he replied. "N-no, I'd rather not drink, my lord." He knelt in front of him, bowing his head.

There was silence for a moment too long. Bo felt a clawed finger trace the delicate skin on the underside of his jaw, pushing his head up so that his master could look him in the eye.

"It's very rude to refuse to have drinks with me when I have so graciously invited you to see me," his voice was low and silky smooth, but never before had Bo been so frightened by something so soothing. Nevertheless, the point had been made; nothing Daichi asked was actually a request.

Daichi traced shapes with the knuckle of his finger along Bo's jugular. He gulped. "I-I apologize. Please, forgive my manners." He tried to lower his head once more, but the moment he turned his head downward he felt his master's poisonous clawed finger pressing lightly on the underside of his jaw, threatening to break through the delicate flesh.

The golden slits Daichi had for eyes captured Bo's, drawing him in, reading his fears. Instantly, all of Bo's worst thoughts of his master sprang unbidden to his mind, clouding his eyes and ears. After a few moments, he was able to push past his mind and draw himself out of his own thoughts. Avoiding Daichi's eyes, he concentrated on the rest of his features.

Shockingly green, Daichi's skin stood out almost as much as his bright, electric blue hair. His blue-tinted teeth were warped by fangs, glistening in the lamp light when he smiled. His posture conveyed a laid back, comfortable man that was off his guard. If anything, Bo was positive he had the wrong impression. Every pore on Daichi's body leaked danger, along with a sickly sweet captivating scent.

"Come, sit by me, there's no need to kneel for so long," Daichi smiled, persuading him out of his paralyzing fear. Bo couldn't help but to smile back. Daichi's silted golden pupils captivated him, making the fear settle down in the back of his mind, now only giving off dulled warnings.

"Now," Daichi said, pouring a dark substance into a wine class and handing it to Bo, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch. He was sitting so close to Bo that it made his skin tingle. "Tell me about what happened," his breath tickled Bo's ear and the sweet smell filled his nose once again as he drained the wineglass in one gulp. Then he started with the story.

* * *

"Don't TOUCH me!" The voice echoed throughout the hallways, startling other patients in their rooms. 

"Please don't struggle ma'am, I don't want to have to sedate you…"

"Don't even come _near_ me!" Rio hollered, her back against the wall. In the absence of anything sharp or along blunt object, she had her arms crossed in front of her in a faux martial arts pose.

"Now, Miss Rio, please calm down, we don't want to hurt you," said the other orderly. They were both on the other side of the room, taking tentative steps towards her.

"We aren't going to hurt you," the shorter man said soothingly. "We're just going to escort you to a room where you'll be more comfortable."

In reply to this, Rio made a sound not unlike growling. "Bill, we're going to need it," the taller orderly gave a meaningful look to the shorter one, who gave a curt nod in reply. Bill left the room for a moment; a moment too long. Rio saw her chance at escaping and lunged at the tall orderly like a rabid animal.

They both fell to the floor with a thud, Rio clawing desperately at the man's face as he tried to force her to the floor. She bit his wrist, instantly drawing a squirt of blood that splattered across her white face and clothes. He yanked back his hand and yelled in pain while Rio tried to detangle herself from him.

"Oh my god, Isaac!" Bill said from the doorway. "We need some attendants in here!" He yelled into the hallway before yanking Rio off of the bleeding Isaac and forcing her face to the floor. She kicked and screamed, but a firm knee on the small of her back and a hand on the back of her head kept her down.

As Rio screamed threats and insults, hurried footsteps were heard in the hall.

"God, Isaac, what happened?"

"She's a feisty one, Eh?"

"Did you---"

"Shut up!" Bill said from above Rio. "Help me get her into a jacket!"

Many hands forced her forward into the sleeves of a straitjacket as she felt them cinching the notches tight behind her. She growled angrily as they yanked her up from the floor, lunging at every person within reach.

"Where are we taking her?" Said Isaac, holding his wrist as blood dripped from between his fingertips.

"_You_ aren't taking her anywhere. I think she hit a vein, or maybe three, judging by how much you're bleeding." Said one of the orderlies. "She's supposed to go to one of the bigger wings; they've set her up a room with some art supplies. Although I can't see why," he glanced at Rio as she stared back at him, Isaac's blood drying on her face.

"Art…Supplies?" She asked cautiously, her voice slightly hoarse.

One of the younger men in the room that had entered when Bill called for help, hopeful and eager to calm her down, answered her quickly. "Yes! They've set you up a room filled to the brim with every kind of paint you can find, charcoal, pastels, pencils, you name it! Even the walls are blank if you want to use them."

Rio's eyes sparkled with the faintest glimmer of hope. "Really?" She whispered, afraid to believe him.

"Uh-huh. Now you can draw more. Isn't that nice? If you just come with us, we'll take you there."

She stopped struggling and stood quietly. The orderlies around her stared (and some gaped) in astonishment.

"That's great. How about I walk with you," he said soothingly, wrapping his arm around her waist. Behind her, he signaled at the other orderlies to follow. "We're just going to take it nice and easy while we walk down the hallway, okay?"

"Mm." She nodded. A few moments passed in silence before she voiced her question. "What's your name?" She looked at him.

"My name? Uh…" His eyes searched her face. "I'm Donovan. What's your name?" He asked kindly.

"I'm Rio," she said quietly, the corners of her mouth turning up.

"We're going to turn right here," he said, gently steering her.

"Why are you being nice?"

"Because I know what it feels like. I was here as a patient not too long ago."

Her eyes widened. "You _were_? Why? What do they _do_ here?"

"This is a medical ward paid for by Koenma himself. He helps the unstable humans and demons and the like stabilize and have normal lives again."

"But I'm not unstable…" Rio muttered. "Why were you here?" She pushed.

"Well, you see…" He hesitated. "I'm a vampire," he announced.

Rio's instant reaction was disbelief. She laughed. "You're funny," she said.

His face was serious. He opened his mouth, baring his teeth. They were perfect. White, shiny…Pointy. Very pointy. Especially his canines. They were long, too. Much too long. In fact, when he closed his mouth, she could still see the white tips of them glimmering just under his top lip.

She jerked away in fear. "Y—y—y-y-you're a…" Her eyes were wide with fear.

"Shh." He pulled her back to him. "I'm not here to hurt you, remember? We're nothing like what TV tells you. I won't…Bite you." He grimaced, as if the last words pained him.

"I believe you," Rio said, surprising herself.

_I __do__ believe him,_ she thought to herself. _But why,_ _is it because he seems to be like me?_ She decided that was it.

Dominic's eyes crinkled into a smile. "We're here," he said, giving her a slight push into her new accommodations.

The room color-wise was just as plain as her first room. It was easily twice as big, with a bathroom visible from the doorway. Her clothes were hanging in a small closet, and the curtains had been pulled back to reveal the same fountain of the women with brooms up close. The room was filled with cubbies and shelves filled with art supplies. There was even a bookshelf stocked with art books which held every kind of paper Rio could think of.

"It was _true_," Rio gasped, looking with wonder at the room. She didn't even feel the straps on her straight jacket loosen or Dominic take it off. "Is this all for me?" She said in wonder.

"All of it," Dominic released his hold on her waist. "You'd better get started," he said.

"Will you draw with me?" She said irrationally, filled with the hope of a child.

"No, but I'll be back later. This is my ward, after all." The door clicked shut with a soft _ch-chak_ that Rio didn't hear, her hands already buried in a mound of multicolor pencils.


	7. Consequences

**Hey guys! I apologize again for the lack of update last week--luckily, my hand is back in good shape (with the help of a brace and strong painkiller) and I'll be able to update regularly again. I hope you enjoy this week's chapter, please tell me what you think! )**

* * *

"Ah, he's such a natural, that Donovan." Bill said appreciatively. "She was like a wild beast until he stepped in. It's his natural charm, don't you think?" He glanced at Isaac, grinning slyly. "It was lucky he was _passing by_," he stressed.

"Yeah, no kidding. How _likely_ was it that the _head _of the wing she was being moved to just _happened_ to be passing by? The coincidence is startling!" Isaac exclaimed.

"You two realize that I'm _right behind you_, of course." Donovan said, shaking his head at their antics.

Isaac and Bill grinned mischievously, looking at each other. "'Course we do," they said together. "How else could we have teased you?"

"You two are impossible." Donovan looked to heaven for patience, a vein pulsing in his temple.

They both turned to grin at him, giving him the peace symbol. "It's just payback for all the times you tried to bite me," Isaac said, pulling back his collar to reveal a few delicate white scars along his neck.

Donovan brushed off their joke, feigning deafness.

"So, is our new pretty lady a vampire too? She sure put a hurtin' on Isaac's hand there," Bill pointed at Isaac's wrist, wrapped from palm to elbow in bandages. Isaac laughed.

"No, actually. They're not sure what she is. Seems harmless enough to me, though." He said, ignoring Isaac's astounded expression and overemphasized pointing at his wrist.

"Wait, not even our resident psychologist _prodigy_," he flourished the word, "knows what she is?" Bill said, clamping his hand to his chest in a mock heart attack. "Hell has frozen over!"

"Not that I've been informed of," Donovan tried to ignore Bill, suppressing a smile. "Bryce even took up the case himself he's so interested. That's how she got such a nice collection of art supplies. He thinks that'll help figure her out…Oh, by the way," he said, holding out the straightjacket. "Was this here before?" He flipped it front side up, showing the end of a sleeve. A hole the size of a fist was in the fabric, the edges black against the white material. "I noticed it when I took it off of her."

"I bet that's not the only thing you took off of her, you charmer!" Isaac elbowed Donovan, winking.

"It was brand new, that wasn't there before." Bill said, mystified.

"Then take it to Bryce. It might be important." Donovan handed the jacket to Bill.

"Aw, but he's so _weird_! Not even twenty-five and he always looks fifty by how much he sleeps, and—"Bill turned towards Donovan only to find that he'd turned down another hallway and left him alone with Isaac.

"You know, it's funny," Isaac mused. "I thought Dr. Venturi was a shoe-in for head of department until Dr. Key came along and made those discoveries," Bill commented to his coworker as they walked down the hall.

"Where IS she?" Jack tapped his foot impatiently, looking at his watch. "She's twenty minutes late!" He exclaimed. "Hey shortie!" He said, catching the attention of the plump girl cleaning beer mugs at the other end of the bar. "Have you heard from Rio?"

Sandra rolled her eyes as she walked towards her employer. "No, aren't _you_ supposed to keep you with your employees?"

"Hush or I'll dock your pay," he said absentmindedly. His phone rang and he turned away from his employee to answer it. "This is Jack," he said. "What? I haven't spoken to you in years…Okay, I won't mention it…Yes, and of course I know the situation with her. It was a personal favor…What happened? Are you sure...Of course I'll watch…Yes, with _all_ of my eyes. But you should remind him that he owes me for _last time_." Jack heaved a sigh and hung up his phone. He turned back around only to be startled by Sandra standing right behind him with a raised eyebrow.

"It's rude to eavesdrop, you know."

"Did something happen?" She asked, ignoring his comment. "That was a very…Weird conversation."

"It's none of your business, nosey. It was just Rio. She won't be coming in to work for a while. You'll be taking over. Now, call Jacob or someone and see if they can fill in for her."

"A Rio that you haven't talked to in _years_?" Sandra said, prodding.

Jack ignored her. "Shoo," he flapped his hand at her.

"Calling," she said as she rolled her eyes and flipped open a bright pink cell phone.

Jack sighed and crossed the room, flipping the switch to his neon sign into the "on" position.

He looked out the window at the sun setting. _It feels like something's about to happen_, he thought.

* * *

Bryce was lying splayed over his desk, papers everywhere, fast asleep. His forehead, normally creased with strenuous thought was smooth. His mouth was open slightly, fogging the glass of water next to his head. The corner of his mouth glistened with dampness, threatening to ruin the papers under his face. His wristwatch ticked on, only seconds from 9:00 AM. The young doctor's intercom buzzed loudly, rudely awakening him from his slumber.

"I'm awake," he half-mumbled, jumping to a sitting position automatically. He looked around, searching for the buzzing sound, but didn't find it until his secretary buzzed the intercom again. Still very sleepy, he pressed the red button and mumbled into the speaker. "Yes? What is it?"

A tinny voice chirruped back at him instantly. "There are two orderlies here to see you. They say they have information on a patient."

Bryce's eyes fluttered and he jerked his falling head back up. "Can't they go see someone else?" He asked pitifully.

"They says it's about a patient named Rio and that Donovan sent them," the secretary continued mercilessly.

Bryce's curiosity overpowered his lack of sleep. "Send them in right away," he said. Standing, he took a gulp of water and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He yawned and rubbed the crust from his eyes before the orderlies walked into the office, holding the singed straightjacket.

"Good morning sir," Isaac said respectfully towards the man that was obviously younger than he.

Bill raised an eyebrow at his comrade, but only inclined his head respectfully towards Bryce without extending greetings.

"And to you both," Bryce said, still sleep deprived, trying to stifle another yawn.

"We moved Rio to the room you had prepared first thin this morning," Said Isaac, his personality strangely businesslike. "We had to put her in a straightjacket, she went crazy. She even bit me," he held up his bandaged wrist. "Donovan was nearby though, and I don't know how he did it, but he calmed her down and walked her to her new room. The reason I'm here," He said, getting to the heart of the matter, "is this." He held the straightjacket out to Bryce; the dark edges of the hole a stark contrast to the plain white material. "Somehow that hole in the sleeve appeared in between the time we put it on her and took it off."

Bryce reached out and took the straightjacket, examining it closely. It looked almost exactly like a large cigarette burn; the edges of the fist-sized hole were signed and darkly discolored. "Did she come into contact with anything hot while she was wearing it?"

Isaac paused in thought, ignoring Bill's playful grin. "No…" He said slowly.

Bill ignored his comedic partner's thoughtfulness and butted in. "Not unless you count Donovan, whom I'm sure any girl would have the hots for." He and Isaac laughed raucously. Still sleepy, Bryce stared, not understanding them. Their laughs turned into awkward coughs in less than three seconds.

"No," Bill said. "Nothing at all," he said, looking at the ceiling.

Bryce didn't answer for a few moments, his eyelids fluttering. "Okay then." He dropped the straightjacket over the back of his chair thoughtfully. "Thank you for bringing this to me," he turned back towards the two, ushering them out of the office. "If there are any more developments of this sort, I expect you to contact me!" He tried to smile at them as they hurried away.

As soon as the two of them were out of sight, he turned to the secretary. "Is there anywhere I can get some caffeine? Coffee, espresso, maybe an energy drink?" He asked hopefully.

* * *

A few minutes later, Bryce retreated back into his office, his arms laden with three coffees and miscellaneous packages. He popped the lid of a pill bottle and sat down at his computer. He set the packages and two of the coffees down while he juggled a couple small white pills out of a bottle that advertised instant alertness with caffeine. He took a large gulp of coffee to down the caffeine pills.

In an instant he accessed Rio's medical file and found what he wanted. He pulled up an image of Rio's hand onto the screen. When she had been admitted, they made records of all current injuries. Koenma had made this regular procedure so as not to be blamed for any unnecessary bodily harm, and normally it was a waste of money, but this time Bryce was thankful for Koenma's paranoia. He zoomed on the picture, studying it closely for a few moments. He sighed, annoyed, and leaned back in his chair, gulping down the rest of his first coffee.

_It looks just the same as any other burn!_ He wracked his brain for a logical explanation to the phenomenon.

Grabbing his second coffee, he took a sip and grimaced. Nasty stuff, no matter how he looked at it. He looked thoughtfully at her file, wondering why he couldn't find a connection between her artistic ability and her hand. If she was being possessed, he reasoned, it wouldn't show in her hand. A simple burn couldn't grant any sort of talent, much less the level of talent that Rio had.

He pondered over it as he finished off his second coffee. _Maybe they're unrelated?_ A voice in his mind queried. Bryce was wary to agree, hopeful of finding some more information that would explain Rio to him. Unfortunately it was much easier to comprehend. It still left both situations hanging. They would need to run tests on her hand, Bruce decided. He opened Yusuke's case file and began going through it.

* * *

Bo finished off his second glass of wine, feeling at ease. "And then I slapped her. I felt kinda bad about that later though," he confessed, his words sounding remorseful. "She was a good kid. I was ready to explode though, and I didn't want to burn anything. I didn't actually think she'd leave, she never left before!" He exclaimed, trying to make sense of it. "But she left! Didn't come back, either. 'Course then I knew you'd be mad, but I couldn't let her do art, you told me not to let her!" Bo tried to justify himself, pleading for understanding.

"I see," Daichi said smoothly, his warm voice had a slight chill to it.

"Ungh," Bo grunted, gripping his stomach.

"The wine go down the wrong way?" The demon said, smiling wryly.

"Yeah, it hurts." Bo said, his vision slightly foggy as he looked up at Daichi.

"Well, holy water will do that to you," Daichi said with a resigned sigh, as if Bo was a child that needed to be scolded for eating too many sweets.

"H-holy water?" A spark of fear reignited behind Bo's glazed eyes.

"Holy water. Judging by how much of it you drank," Daichi picked up the wine bottle and swished its contents around. "You being a full-blooded demon...You should be dead before the sun sets."

"N-no! Please! I'm your loyal servant! Don't let me die! I can get her back!" Bo pleaded as the realization of what was happening hit him; panic fringing his voice.

Daichi pinned Bo against the wall with his slender fingers, strangling him. "You can get her back? She should never have been lost in the first place, you incompetent imbecile!" Daichi yelled and hit him across the face. Bo fell to the floor with a welt on his face where one of Daichi's elaborate rings had hit his cheekbone. "You have failed me once before this already, don't you remember Bo?" He knelt next to him and trailed his fingers up Bo's chest. "This was supposed to be you making it up to me. How can you make it up to me _twice_? My patience grows thin!" His silky voice growled roughly. He reached out and caressed Bo's cheek with his hand, watching Bo's eyes dilate with fear. "Oh, you're growing cold, that's not too god for you, is it, firey?" His smile glinted with malice.

Bo whimpered in pain as he tried to formulate an argument. Shots of pain ran through his stomach. "Please!" He cried out, unable to even defend himself. "Anything..." his voice broke.

"Well, the only way for _you_ to be able to survive holy water is to vomit it out of your system," Daichi mused, looking down at the whimpering mess that was his servant. "You have wronged me," he looked down at Bo with a sneer, inviting him to grovel.

"Please," Bo cried out in agony. "Forgive me!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face.

"It just so happens that I know a way to induce said vomiting," Daichi pulled Bo up by the collar and sat him on the couch. He leaned close to Bo's face and smiled, his fangs glinted. "My venom."

Bo's eyes widened in realization, and instantly he tried to push Daichi away. "No!" Bo screamed, trying desperately to escape from his master's clutches.

Daichi laughed a low, cruel laugh, flipping the flailing Bo under him and pressing him into the couch. He pulled Bo's hands above his head and dug his claws through them, literally pinning him to the upholstery, ignoring Bo's screams of protest. Baring his fangs, Daichi bit Bo's neck. Once. Twice. Thrice. He dragged the poisonous fangs across Bo's collarbone, leaving a gaping flesh wound. He bit his wrists, his arms, his chest, neck and face countless times. Bo's agonized screams echoed again and again until he had no voice left, and then only Daichi's laughter could be heard. On the lower floors, the demons and humans serving Daichi alike would look up and shudder, some understanding more than others the agony Bo was enduring.

Minutes that felt like days to Bo passed. Once Daichi was satisfied, he stood and wiped his bloody mouth off delicately with a handkerchief, not even looking at the mangled body of his servant. _Come and get him_, Daichi sent his thoughts to Whit. _What a pity he couldn't scream more than that..._ He smiled to himself, not caring if Whit overheard his thoughts.

The elevator opened and Whit bowed to Daichi. He was used to being ignored, so he went to Bo's body and started to pick him up, his eyes downcast.

"Get him out of here before he messes up my carpet," he said contemptuously. "Oh, and Whit," he turned to look at the man. "Don't let him die. I want you to take care of him."

Whit opened his mouth to protest, or maybe it just opened in astonishment. Daichi raised his eyebrows, in a questioning, yet still threatening move. He quickly closed his mouth. "Of course, whatever you wish," Whit said with lowered eyes as the elevator doors closed. Retching sounds could be distinguished over hte hum of the elevator almost as soon as it clsoed.


	8. Guilt

**My apologies. My train arrived late. (Rawr!)  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Rio hummed happily as she drew. It seemed like nothing could possibly be wrong with the world, the concept of a bad day escaped her. Her level of happiness became borderline ecstasy as she became entranced by what she drew. Her fingers flew across the paper, and it seemed as though she just sat back and watched to her heart's content.

The picture was starting to come together now, Rio could see it. It was Kurama, holding in his cupped hands eight different jewels set on chains, looking very sad. Rio decided only to give color to his eyes and the jewels. Nothing else in the drawing seemed to need color to communicate itself.

She flipped to a new page in the same art book. Grabbing a stick of charcoal, she set it loose on the paper. Rio paused for a moment to stare at the drawing. This time it was a hand wiping her father's forehead with a damp cloth. His face was contorted in pain; the whole right side of it was swollen.

_What could have possessed me to draw _that She wondered. She wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead. "Ow!" She cried out suddenly, her hand burning her forehead. She clapped her other hand to her forehead and looked at the back of her right hand. It was blistering red and burned to touch.

"That looks like it hurts," Said Donovan from his vantage point on the bed.

"You!" She exclaimed, unable to quell the note of happiness in her voice. "How long…When did you…?" She trailed off.

"Oh, about fifteen minutes, give or take," he smiled lightly. "You were so consumed by your drawing that I didn't want to disturb you."

Rio flushed, her face growing hot. "I wasn't _that_ into it…" She muttered.

_Why am I getting embarrassed like this?_ She clapped a hand to her heated cheek. _What's wrong with me?_

"I brought you some lunch," Donovan changed the subject. "Are you hungry?"

Rio opened her mouth to speak, but her stomach spoke for her. She grinned sheepishly and held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "A little?" She smiled apologetically.

"That's good. It's nothing special though, just sandwiches." He commented, motioning towards a small table in the center of the room that had the food on it. "May I sit with you?" He asked cordially.

"Of course," she said, surprised that he asked. "It's not like I have a lot of visitors," She laughed halfheartedly, reminded for the first time that day that she was not in the room of her own free will.

They both sat at the table. Rio, ravenous, started eating her sandwich. They were silent for a few moments. "How did you hurt your hand?" Donovan spoke up, motioning towards her hand.

Rio put down her glass and looked over the back of her hand, studying the red-hot skin. "I spilled coffee on it," she said, grinning at the absurd truth.

"Oh, come now. That doesn't look like any coffee burn _I've_ ever seen." He grinned.

"No, it's true!" She tried to justify herself. "I spilled coffee on it the last day I was…" She paused, recollecting the painful memory. "Home," she finished dully.

Donovan was about to ask, but Rio spoke up before he had the chance to speak. "Say," she said. "Tell me…Why am I here? Is there something wrong with me?" Her eyes begged for an answer.

"Well…" Donovan hesitated, wondering whether to withhold the information or not "You see, you're a special case," He finished lamely. "Normally when people are brought in here, they're brought in because of what they've done." He said.

Rio looked at him. "What they've…Done?" She didn't get it.

"They killed people," he explained. "Or, at least, that's what the lucky ones did." He shuddered slightly. "That's how we know they're out there. We don't have a magic alarm that tells when someone goes crazy." His voice sounded a little regretful. "We have a "retrieval squad"—for lack of a better name—that apprehends them and brings them here. Most cases, it's simple loss of control, or a demon not understanding its surroundings." He looked at her to see if she was following his explanation.

"So…" She said, wondering if she truly wanted to know the answer to her question. "Did I kill people?" she forced out.

"No, you haven't." He reassured her. "That's one of the reasons it's so unique to have you here," he stared. "You not only haven't had an episode, but Koenma's own spirit detectives brought you in. That's only happened one other time since I've been here." He mused, remembering.

"Who is Koenma? What are spirit detectives?" She interrogated him.

Donovan looked taken aback. "You don't know…?" He shook his head, starting to wonder why she was there. "Well, Koenma is the son of the spirit world ruler, King Enma. King Enma doesn't do much in the way of taking care of the smaller things anymore. Koenma makes all but the biggest decisions by himself. He has a few different elite groups besides the Spirit Police to help handle heavier matters; the most famous of them being his Spirit Detectives. There are four steady members of the team, I'm sorry, but I don't remember all of their names." He smiled apologetically. "Over the time since the creation of the team, a fifth member has been added quite a few times, but all of them came to unfortunate ends." He sighed.

Rio nodded, washing down a mouthful of ham and cheese with cool water. "So," she swallowed. "What did I do to be here? Am I going to go crazy?"

Donovan laughed. "Not if I can help it." He flashed a smile. "Koenma hasn't said why you're here as far as I know, but my guess is that he knew you'd be in trouble. It's funny, really. You're the hot topic of conversation around here. Everyone wants to know all about you," he paused to take a sip of his drink. "And more importantly," he gave her a scrutinizing look. "What you can do."

Rio finished her third sandwich. "What _can_ I do?"

"Well, you sure can eat," he commented.

She flushed, glancing down at her empty plate. "Hey, you haven't eaten any…Oh." She caught herself too late. Suddenly self conscious, she apologized.

"It's not a problem," Said Donovan politely, suddenly seeming distant. He took another gulp of his drink. Rio tried to be polite, but couldn't help but stare at the dark contents of his cup and wonder where the blood came from.

"Are you immortal?" She blurted out, instantly clapping a hand to her mouth.

He smiled at her, but it seemed slightly strained. "That is a conversation for another day." He said. Changing the subject, he asked, "How about you show me some of your drawings?"

* * *

Humming.

"Mom, are you here?" Kurama called out.

More humming. It was a lullaby.

"Mom?" Kurama said again, this time setting his grocery bag down and walking further into the apartment.

"Mommy's not here, sweetheart," a female voice chuckled.

Kurama set foot in the kitchen of his parents' apartment and stopped short. A tall, slender blond woman sat at a chair at the kitchen table with his human mother unconscious at her feet. The woman was very beautiful. It was a cold beauty that she possessed, and the haughty sneer on her face gave away the fact that she knew exactly how attractive she was.

"Or should I say…she's not able to answer you." She laughed.

Instantly on the alert, Kurama shoved his panic down in his chest and let his intellect take over. "I've seen you before, he said, scrutinizing her features. "You were one of the Chosen." His memory sharpened. "…Weira." He said slowly.

"Why, yes, I was, Yoko Kurama." A self-satisfied smile curled her full lips. "It's been a while since then. Tell me, how has Kerya been?"

Kurama's fists clenched unconsciously as he bit back the angry words trying to force themselves out of his mouth. "What kind of business do you have with me that you might break and enter my mother's home?" He freed his voice from emotion, leaving it cold. Passion wouldn't help him there.

"Oh, this and that," she twisted a lock of the unconscious woman's hair around her finger. "Mostly a favor, though. I want a little information."

"On what, exactly?" His eyes followed her fingers with an intense gaze.

"This girl," Weira held up a photo for him to see, sounding uninterested in the information she had just asked for. "It seems like you were one of the last people to see her before she disappeared." She examined an inch-long golden colored nail, filed to a point. "Her first name is Rio. I forget the rest. She worked at a bar called The Blue Moon. One of the tenders said you were a regular and, well, let's just say I remembered you." She looked up suggestively and gave him a once-over with her eyes.

Kurama looked at the picture of Rio, his mind moving at a tremendous pace. _What could this woman possibly want with Rio_? It was possibly another clue to solving the riddle. "I saw her a few days ago, yes, but I didn't hear anything about her disappearing."

She knocked the unconscious body of Kurama's mother to the side without a glance. "Lies! She went to you when she was thrown out of her house, wasn't she? Were you lovers? Spare me your fake pity! It's bad enough that my love would ask _me_, his Weira to find this girl for him!" She spat, seeming slightly hysterical.

_Mood swings_, Kurama thought as he edged away a bit. "Her parents kicked her out?" Kurama said in genuine surprise.

Weira hissed, taking a step towards Kurama and away from his mother. Instantly, Kurama was behind her, his rose whip ready to lash.

"I suggest you leave," he said dangerously, his eyes half hooded.

She screamed in fury, spinning to face him while simultaneously backing up. "I Know you know something. This can't be coincidence. I'll find out what you're hiding Kurama!" With that, she disappeared.

Kurama rushed forward, cradling his unconscious mother in his arms. "Shiori---Shiori! Mother, you'll be fine, I promise…"

* * *

The freezer door opened, letting a gush of cool air out as a hand reached in behind a package of frozen waffles and a freezer-burned package of meat to grab a carton of ice cream. The light that illuminated the dark room flickered off as the door closed with a _whoosh_.

Hiei's feet made only the softest sounds as he made his way onto the moonlit veranda. The moon shone down, always more mysterious than the sun, listening to the conversation the wind was having with the trees as it rustled softly against the leaves. Once the plastic seal was cracked, Hiei eagerly reached for his spoon. _Damn!_ He thought, instantly annoyed with himself for forgetting a spoon.

"Here," Kurama placed a warm hand on Hiei's shoulder, extending a spoon in the other.

"Hm," Hiei grunted, slight embarrassment rising among his lingering annoyance.

Chuckling softly, Kurama leaned against the railing and looked out over the sleeping forest. "Beautiful," He whispered.

Hiei ignored his comment, digging the spoon into his frozen treat. Kurama was always like this when he was in a thoughtful mood. First came the beauty of nature, then the sigh, then his problem. Even though he had initially disliked his comrade, he and Kurama had become quite close since their first meeting. Kurama knew just what to say to the easily exasperated fire demon when he was in his worse moods. He brought the spoon to his mouth and resisted the temptation to smile. It was sweet.

Kurama sighed dejectedly and rested his head on his forearms for a few moments. "Even this beauty doesn't fill me like before," he said sadly, sighing again.

_Get on with it,_ Hiei tried not to roll his eyes. Speaking around the coolness in his mouth, Hiei commented. "You love plants, Kurama. Don't tell me someone has stolen your heart from Mother Earth?" He almost laughed at the pure absurdity of his words and shoved another loaded spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Kurama, however, looked as if he'd been slapped across the face, and jerked around to look at Hiei. "What? My…My _heart_?" He said incredulously.

Hiei scrutinized Kurama. He was acting oddly. Something was not right with him. His face was red, he was short of breath, and a thin sheen of sweat stood out on his face. He gave a forlorn look at his sweet snow before setting it aside and Checking Kurama's temperature. It was well above normal, and his heart was racing.

"You're sick." He muttered, pulling him back inside and forcing him down on the couch. "Stay there, he commanded. "I'll call a physician for you. No objections," he glared, "You could die from a fever like that, demon or not. I'm surprised you're moving."

He slipped out of the room as soon as Kurama slumped back into the couch. Quietly, he slid the carton of ice cream back into the freezer before setting off. After all, melted ice cream was always such a waste.


	9. Pain, Lust, Secrets

**Well, this one sure took a while, didn't it? **

**Darn those narcotics and wisdom teeth. Simply horrible. Ugh.**

**Anyway, I hope the chapter is worth it. Feel free to comment! )  
**

* * *

"Since when do you smoke?" Keiko demanded, snatching the cigarette from Yusuke's mouth.

"Oye!" He complained, unsuccessfully trying to snatch it back before she crushed it under her shoe.

"Smoking is bad for you. I'm not going to stick around if you get lung cancer!" She folded her arms and turned her back on him.

"Aw, c'mon Keiko," Yusuke wheedled, wrapping his arms around her.

"You smell like smoke," She snorted and pulled away.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "No smoke. Wanna kiss?" He nuzzled her neck.

"Ugh, you probably _taste_ like smoke too."

"Keiko," he stretched her name out. "C'mon." His cell phone rang. "Eh?" He picked up the phone, stepping away from Keiko.

"Yusuke! Where are you?" Koenma barked from the tiny phone's earpiece, making his eardrum throb.

"Whaddaya mean, diaper boy? I don't have to be anywhere!" He retorted. Yusuke had conveniently _forgotten_ to bring his alert watch with him.

"You didn't get Botan's message?" Koenma sounded scandalized. "Get over here _now_! Kurama's sick!"

Yusuke paused and looked uneasily at Keiko; she was still turned away, tapping her foot. This was their first time together in almost a month, and she had only recently come to know the truth about Yusuke's little "part-time job", she still wasn't happy about it. "I see," he said to Koenma, hanging up the phone. "Say, Keiko," he turned to her.

"What is it?" She started to turn.

Yusuke caught her mid-turn, his lips on hers as he embraced her tightly. They stayed that way for a few impossible moments; Yusuke cupped her face in his hands, kissed her once more, and ran off. Keiko stood there, at a loss for words; her heart pounding. She raised her fingers to her lips, finding that she didn't really mind his smoky taste after all.

* * *

"What in all of Spirit World is wrong with him, Koenma?" Botan held the fringe of her pink kimono to her mouth daintily.

"Well, it seems as if he's fallen ill," Koenma looked through the glass, seeing the doctors running diagnostic tests on an unconscious Kurama; giving an obvious answer to an equally obvious question.

"Say, Koenma Sir, is it really okay to have hat girl in the medical ward?" Botan looked at Koenma's teenage self shrewdly. "It seems like only bad things have happened since she came here. She's been trouble, nobody can figure her out, and even Doctor Bryce has been looking…worse than usual." She shook her head. "And now Kurama is probably sick with guilt!"

Koenma snapped to attention beside her. "Guilt?" He queried. "Is that even a possibility?"

"Well I certainly think it is!" Botan said, her accent becoming sharp. "He's known her much longer than the rest of us have, he conducted the initial surveillance, and they were friends! Then he's the one who lead her into a trap to be captured. Any _normal_ person would feel guilty, don't you think?"

"Kurama has never let his emotions get in the way of his job before," he was reluctant to admit it was possible.

"But didn't he first steal the mirror of Forlorn Hope to save his mother?"

"That's right, he did! Good lord Botan, could he really—"

The door of the observation room slammed open against the wall, and Bryce fell face-first on the hard floor.

"…Ow," was all he said before staggering to his feet, wincing.

"Are you okay Bryce?" Botan was immediately at his side, holding onto his arm to keep him steady.

"Of course, Botan." He gave her a distracted smile that made her blush a darker shade of pink than her kimono. "I tripped…Into the door," he said slowly, looking like not quite everything was working in his brain. "How is Kurounu?"

"Kurama." Botan corrected.

"Oh, yes, him too."

"He won't wake, his fever is at dangerous heights, his fingertips are purple and he's in a lot of pain." Koenma said matter-of-factly.

"Purple fingertips?" He looked down at his own digits as if they'd divulge the secret of Kurama's illness to him. "Sounds like an infection. What tests have they been—"

"Well, I _still_ think he just feels guilty!" Botan insisted, cutting Bryce off.

"What do you think of that, Doctor?" Koenma posed the question.

Bruce snorted. "That's idiotic. I may be a human, sir, but I'm not an idiot."

Botan opened her mouth in outrage, but with a look of warning from Koenma, she satisfied herself with huffing out of the room.

"Why is it such a ridiculous notion? After all, Kurama is not ruthless…"

"You display your ignorance, sir. Kurama is more ruthless than you know. This has nothing to do with his personality, however. Yes, _some_ of the symptoms correlate with heartsickness in the _figurative_ sense, but it wouldn't affect his physical heart, which I can tell you without a doubt, it's already doing. His blood isn't getting enough oxygen. Either his lungs, heart or arteries aren't operating properly. Aside from this, these exact symptoms have appeared before. I searched the patient archives for similar cases, and it appears to have happened once before, during the Stealer War. A Soldier was attacked in the middle of the night, mistakenly thought to be the enemy, and died from the fever. He was attacked by a demon of light we can now deduce, and…Oh God…You have to be kidding…" He halted. "Koenma, can you call Aika? _Please_? It's very important."

Confused and wary, Koenma scrutinized Bryce's earnest face. "I don't know…She won't enjoy being called, you know that," he said slowly. "Especially not for anything connected with my Spirit Detectives."

"We need her. She can…Er…She can heal Kurama!" He leaned in towards Koenma, his gaunt face accentuating the shadows under his eyes made him look desperate.

"Oh, all right then, if it's really as important as you say, then I'll call her." Koenma pouted. "I just hope she doesn't react like she did _last_ time…" He walked out of the room, looking for all the world like a scolded child.

* * *

Rio was in tears.

"How was I supposed to know it'd melt on my skin?" She sniffed, holding out her orange hand to the doctor.

He bent his head over her hand and snuffled at it before releasing a great puff of hot air through his tusks. "Lead-based paint is bad." He grunted.

"How on earth did you get your hand hot enough to harden _lead-based paint_ into plaster?" Donovan stared at her incredulously.

"I don't _know_," she gritted her teeth and tried hard not to whimper as her doctor pulled a piece of dried paint away from her skin with tweezers.

"You're just full of surprises," he shook his head at her, looking at the half-finished painting she had been working on. "Looks like you're painting some pretty cryptic stuff nowadays. Where did you get the inspiration for this?" He gestured to the painting.

The painting was of Rio, naked but modest, curled like a baby in the fetal position in a cocoon of fire on one side, brightly contrasting with another girl in the same position cloaked with a smoke-gray substance. Bright strands of light connected the two, pulling them together.

"Who is she?"

"I don't know. Somehow I feel…Familiar with h—ayOWW!" She cried out involuntarily. She couldn't stop the tears from overflowing her eyelids this time.

"Sorry ducky," The doctor said apologetically. "Almost done."

She bit her lip and nodded, then turned back to Donovan. "How is Kurama? Er, I mean, I haven't talked to him since he…"

"Kurama is perfectly fine," Donovan lied. "He is very busy with his own things. Do you want me to relay a message to him?"

Rio looked down at her curled fingers. "No…No, I don't have anything to say. I just wondered." She looked around for something to distract herself with. "Look at that painting over there. Is that cryptic enough for you?" The playful note came back into her voice.

It was a simple sketch of Donovan, sitting at a table with a newspaper and a cup of coffee in front of him. He was affectionately mussing the hair of a young boy who was grinning up at him. Even in the lifelessness of a sketch, the Donovan in it seemed warmer and more full of love than the one smiling down at it.

"This is beautiful, Rio. May I keep it?"

"But won't they need to take it like the others?" She queried, looking confused. All of her other artwork had been confiscated during her sleep the night of their creation. The first time this had happened Rio had been outraged, but she had come to accept it.

"Let's just keep this a secret between us, then." He winked slyly at her while the doctor turned a blind eye and deaf ear. The only hint that he had heard anything was the hint of a smile playing on his tusks as he packed up his instruments after finishing with Rio's hand.

* * *

As Donovan accompanied the doctor into the hallway, he started chuckling.

"What are you laughing about, Doctor?"

"Are you always this soft on your patients, or is she just special?" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at him. Donovan felt like those eyes saw straight through him.

WH-what? I'm professional with all of my patients!" He objected.

"I didn't say it was a _bad_ thing," the doctor smiled, ignoring his objections. "It's good to see you…Well, more _alive_. And she's stopped throwing things at me whenever I enter the room, I'm happy about that." He smiled, looking at Donovan like a father would a son. "Just watch that you don't get too…" He paused, whether for effect or if he was searching for the right word wasn't clear. "Heated up."

"Of…Of course not." Donovan looked down.

"By the way. Why doesn't that girl just release the heat in her hand? She's being so silly,, absorbing everything she comes across. Maybe she doesn't know how?"

"Release…heat?" Donovan was dumbfounded.

"Yes, of course. She's some kind of fire demon, isn't she?" The doctor's eyes twinkled even brighter.

* * *

He moaned. All day and all night. And he cried. Tears continually leaked out of his eyes, even when it seemed impossible that he had any tears left. Sometimes he screamed, but his voice was usually to hoarse for that. Whit was getting sick of it.

_Why won't that bastard shut up?_ He gritted his teeth and glared at Bo, unconscious and in pain on a cot in the corner of Whit's bedroom. It had been days since Daichi had bitten him. He was recovering. At least he could breathe now. The first few hours had been the hardest, dealing with vomiting, hallucination, fever, and constriction of the esophagus. It Whit hadn't been there, Bo would have suffocated many times over. The next days could hardly be construed as "better" in terms of less pain. He stopped vomiting and suffocating, but the hallucinations continued and all of his wounds crusted over and oozed green pus. Whit would look at him and remember the burning sensation he knew was going on under Bo's skin, just like it had when Daichi had bitten him.

He moaned again, causing Whit's expression to soften as he applied a fresh cool cloth to his hot forehead. _I remember what it was like still_, he thought, his eyes softening even more to Bo's pain as he re-applied bandages to some of Bo's more gruesome wounds.

_No, you idiot,_ thought another part of him. _HE's the reason you had to feel that pain! Everything is the fault of the bastard in front of you!_

Whit's soft look hardened and he pulled off a crusted-on bandage harder than necessary, ripping a cry of pain from between Bo's lips.

_You should kill him right now_, the voice said. _He deserves it for what he did. Everything was blamed on you. _You_ had to pay for his sins! Pay him back!_

His hands moved slowly up Bo's body to his neck. He should do it. Bo not only broke their friendship, he broke Whit's heart. His hands tightened, cutting off the unconscious man's air. His body started choking and sputtering helplessly, and his eyes popped open, unseeing.

Instantly, Whit's veins burned with white-hot fire. His hands burned with a ferocity that no earthly fire possessed. He screamed, wrenching his hands from the pitiful man's neck and falling to the floor, whimpering. Daichi's words echoed in his head. _Take care of him, Keep him alive._ They echoed over and over and over.

A few tears of frustration spilled from under his eyelids. Frustration that had built up over fifteen years, ever since Bo had betrayed him and cursed him to his fate. Daichi's venom in his veins controlled him, infected him. He was a slave. The most pitiful kind of slave. A slave that could not leave his master.

* * *

An irritated-looking woman leaned against a wall in Koenma's office.

"You _know_ how I feel about dealing with _them_," she glared at Koenma. Hostility seemed to radiate from her every pore.

"But Donovan said it was _urgent_," Koenma said, poking his fingers together. "Besides, it's not _him_. _He's_ not here."

"A minor positive point in a situation full of negative ones. It's like complimenting bad food—you can find something to say if you try hard enough, but you can still barely bring yourself to eat the food."

"I…See," Koenma said, trying hard not to look at her.

The door opened and Donovan entered, looking more awake, yet worse for ware as he fixed his eyes on Aika. "Oh, thank Yamma you're here," he cried, coming towards her.

"What do you want?"

"I need you to tell me about one of the Chosen. You oversaw that, didn't you? What of the light demon? Weira?"

"I remember her very well. What do you wish to know of her?" Aika looked Donovan over skeptically. Was he really the head of Koenma's medical department?

"Do you know if she stayed in contact with any of the Spirit Detectives? Kurama, more specifically. He's come down with something that I _suspect_ is a special skill of hers."

"I don't concern myself with the social life of _Team Urameshi_," she spat. "Kurama is no exception. Nevertheless I doubt that is the case, considering the status of her relationship with Kerya."

"Oh…I see," Donovan looked heartbroken. He turned to leave, downcast.

"Wait," Aika said, looking like she thought she'd regret her words later. "Has he been…Cured? Kurama, I mean."

"No, nobody knows how to reverse whatever's been done to him"

"I think I know what to do to help, if you wish," She looked reluctant and sour that she was offering in the first place.

"You do? Really?" He looked hopeful.

"It's only experimental. I may have seen the actual process of infection and therefore may be able to reverse the effects," She looked even more sorry for talking.

"Please try!" Donovan implored, beckoning her to follow him to Kurama.

* * *

Weira preened herself on the way up the elevator. Daichi's little servant boy, she noticed, was absent. When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out, trying as hard as she could to look _alluring_. She knew she was beautiful, and she had never failed to look beautiful, but there was something about being in the company of Daichi that made her feel weak, inferior and inadequate.

"My, don't you look lovely. Were you fussing over yourself like a vain little hussy again?" His silky-sweet voice sent daggers into the heart of her pride. She tried to smile haughtily, to rise above his cruel words, but she faltered.

"I brought news of the girl you asked for," she said.

"Well, hurry up. I'm waiting."

Weira faltered even more in the face of his impatience. "I-I checked the surveillance tapes at her workplace. She came to work regularly after she left her home. About one week after, she left the building after work with a demon named Kurama, also known as the spirit fox Yoko. He is a notoriously known as a Spirit Detective working for Spirit World. She wasn't seen again after that. It's been almost a week since then, and two weeks since she left home."

"Did you get any information from this…Kurama? " he said darkly, obviously not pleased with this new information.

"I questioned him at the risk of his mother's life, but he refused to admit any knowledge of her whereabouts."

Daichi slapped her across the face, knocking her to the floor. "You useless woman," he said contemptuously. "It's obvious Koenma has his hands on her by now. You had better hope that it takes him a while to find out what he's dealing with, or this will be your fault." He pulled Weira up from the floor by the front of her dress, pressing her to him with a kiss. She melted like putty in his hands as he lead her towards the bed.


	10. Old feelings, New questions

**Think of it as an early Christmas present. **

**Happy Holidays! **

* * *

Aika had refused to allow anybody in the room while she was working on Kurama, or even anybody in the observation room. Bryce , ignoring his more important work, was pacing back and forth in the waiting room outside Kurama's door. Yusuke had arrived earlier and was now comparing different brands of hair gel with Hiei while Kuwabara leafed through a magazine that advertised freckle remedies on the corner. Botan had claimed that she was too far behind on work to wait around and had gone to ferry more souls to their ultimate destination.

As the minutes ticked by, Bryce's walking became more and more frenzied, although his abstract muttering claimed even more attention. After the third time he ran into a wall, Kuwabara forced him to sit down.

"Dude, did you drink something? You look sleepy." He squinted at Bryce.

"Sleep is…not important!" He tried to stand up.

Kuwabara forced him back down. "That's not good, man, my uncle died of alcohol poisoning. I hear you can die from no sleep, too. Drop like a fly!"

A demon a few chairs over in the waiting room made an attempt to cover his laughter with a coughing fit.

"Kuwabara, I—"

"Either way, running into walls isn't gonna make that chick work any faster." Kuwabara grabbed a magazine and shoved it into Bryce's hands. "Read something!"

It was only another thirty minutes before Aika emerged, supporting a shaky-looking Kurama with one arm. Yusuke jumped up and had Kurama lean on him almost as soon as they emerged.

"Miss Kendi! May I have a word?" The demon that had coughed earlier hurriedly walked over to her, pen and paper in hand. "Inquiring minds want to know, what really happened to Kurama? Is it true that you're over a hundred years old? Is there a conspiracy pl---"

"Excuse me, but we have more important business with Miss Kendi," three doctors stood in white lab coats behind him, looking intimidating.

"The demon world wants to know what Koenma's been hiding from the public!" The demon whirled on the doctors. "News is important!"

"Yes, well I'm sure a garbage reporter like you would think that," said a middle-aged doctor condescendingly.

The reporter steamed. "The NEWS reports the TRUTH about Koenma to the unknowing public! Without us, Koenma and his tyrant empire would conquer the whole of demon world!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure what you meant to say was that your garbage, muckraker newspaper tabloid wants to print more lies." He smirked that the reporter had no reply, and turned to Aika. "Now, Miss Kendi, we really do need to document how you cured this young man for our medical records, it'd be very helpful if---"

"The only _lies_ are the ones Koenma tells the public!" Shouted the reporter, startling a few passing interns. "Aika, was it true that you were King Yamma's personal assassin? How do you feel about that?"

"What do---" Began a doctor.

"How do you---" began another.

"Is---" began the reporter.

Everyone was interrupted by what happened next.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Bryce screamed, grabbing Kuraa by the neck and throttling him. "You SAW her! You saw Weira and DIDN'T TELL ME!" Where is she?"

Kurama, too weak to defend himself, choked for air and tried to answer the delirious doctor, but Bryce paid no attention.

"You BASTARD! She's your lover, isn't she? ISN'T SHE? I bet you've been seeing her…for….for…" Bryce's eyes fluttered. There was a _thwump_ as he hit the floor, unconscious.

Security guards rushed to the spot along with medics. The guards ushered everyone away from the scene; kicking anyone who didn't have clearance out of the building completely. The reporter left noisily, shouting back threats at the doctors and conspiracy theories at anyone who would listen until the guards pulled him out of sight.

One doctor leaned over Bryce and examined him. "I think it's just sleep deprivation," said a doctor as a few orderlies wheeled him away on a gurney. "We're going to put him on an IV with some sleep medication for a while." He said to a few bystanders. "How is your neck?" He turned to Kurama.

Kurama, stopped rubbing his sore neck so that the doctor could examine the bruises. "Just sore, thank you." He said hoarsely.

"I see. It looks like there's no damage beyond the bruises and a bit of swelling. I suggest you have your friends take you home for the rest of the day." He pulled off his latex gloves as Kurama walked away and threw them away in a nearby garbage disposal. "Now, Miss Kendi, if we could---"

He had turned to an empty chair. Aika had disappeared long ago in the confusion.

* * *

Bo felt like he was on fire. Was he in hell? No, that was absurd, only humans believed in hell. Was he in a fire pit in demon world? Was there really much of a difference? Bo didn't care; either way he was on fire. 

He sat up, wincing as it made his inflamed joints hurt even more. It took him a moment to open his eyes, because they were crusted over with dried tears.

The room was sparsely furnished and seemed to have very few luxuries. The only source of light in the room was from an emergency light panel on the cracked and water-ruined ceiling. The plaster on the ceiling was cracked and falling of in some places, while the sheetrock walls had never been painted. There were no windows, but there were two doors. One was closed, the other showed a dimly lighted, and even dingier bathroom.

A flushing sound came from the bathroom and Whit exited the bathroom, zipping up his rather grungy old jeans. He looked over towards the cot Bo was on. "You're awake. That's faster than I expected." He mumbled and looked away.

Bo looked down at himself and was repulsed. He was not only in horrible condition, but he was hideous. His pale skin was tinged with green and black where it wasn't covered in bandages; the bandages themselves were all showing signs of a green pus that was determined to seep through the bandages to dry and leave a sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh behind. Bo wanted to gag. His arm was broken and roughly splinted, along with three fingers on his left hand. Even though he was healing so quickly, his wounds were horrendous.

"Daichi didn't break your arm," Whit confessed as he wiped his hands on a semi-clean rag. "I did, by accident when you were having hallucinations. Had to hold you down somehow…" He wiped his forehead and sat on the bed, clearly exhausted from taking care of Bo.

"What day is it?" Bo croaked.

"Wednesday. It's been a week exactly since you were bitten. You shouldn't be awake yet."

"I feel like I shouldn't be _alive_," Bo would have laughed if it wouldn't have opened up at least ten wounds on his chest alone.

"You're alive because Daichi wants you alive, it's nothing to be happy about." Whit stared dully at Bo. "You'll find out soon enough just what that venom in your veins can make you do, now that you're his absolute slave." He was so tired from taking care of Bo that he didn't even have the energy to feel bitter.

Bo gulped, noticing the bandages covering his adam's apple. "When will he…I mean…what will he…?"

"Torture, most likely." Whit stated blatantly. "He probably won't summon you until he thinks you can stand again…Probably," he added as an afterthought.

"What does he do?" Bo was almost too afraid to ask.

"Whatever you're imagining…" Whit hesitated. "It's worse," he admitted with a sigh. Whit looked down at his feet. "It's not just a beating, or even normal torture. He'll break your mind, and "rape" doesn't even begin to cover what he can do to your body,"

Bo thought he could see a shiver run across Whit's shoulders and remembered that he was speaking from experience.

"How do I…How can I…Appease him?"

Whit's head snapped up. "You _dare_ to ask me for advice? For _guidance_?_Me_? You forget how much I hate you. Nothing could make me happier than to see Daichi destroy your soul piece by piece…Except maybe to see you die." He glared hatefully.

"I…I thought…You took care of me…" Bo tried pitifully.

"I_had_ to take care of you, under Daichi's orders. You'd be _dead_ right now if I had my way." Whit's glare was so fierce that Bo had to look away. Bo didn't reply and Whit didn't expect one. What was there to say to that, anyway?

"You haven't asked me…Why," Bo said, watching a roach climb the damp wall.

"I don't want to know. No excuse you've thought up to make yourself feel better will change what you did to me." He looked at Bo. "Your throat is bleeding again. You talked too much." He grabbed a cup off the nightstand and filled it with water from the tap in the bathroom. He poured a powder into it, and then held the cup out to Bo. "Drink this," He gave Bo the cup, "and hold still. I'm going to re-bandage your neck."

Whit grabbed a fresh roll of gauze from a box in the corner, noticing Bo's hesitation. "Oh, grow a spine. If I were going to poison you I wouldn't have waited 'till you woke up. If you die, I die. So, for now, I guess you have to live." He started to unwrap the old gauze bandages from around Bo's neck. Bo gulped down the foul solution in one swallow, grimacing at the taste. He tried to hold still as Whit leaned in close to him. As Bo unwrapped the bandages, he couldn't help but notice that Whit's hair was wet, and smelled of some kind of shampoo. His hot breath on Bo's skin gave him goose bumps, and he clenched his fists, fighting back urges that had laid dormant for fifteen years.

Whit leaned over Bo; just above him one knee resting on the side of the bed for balance as he unwrapped the old gauze and examined the bite marks. He leaned in close, looking for infection in the mauled skin. A vein pulsed in he side of Bo's neck. Whit noticed how strong his shoulders were, even after fifteen years. The soft dip in-between Bo's collarbones almost…Enticed Whit. He concentrated his mind on re-wrapping Bo's neck.

"Is that too tight?"

"A little," Bo grunted.

"Hold on," Whit said, placing one hand on the side of Bo's neck to hold most of the bandages in place while he unwrapped with the other. "How's that?" He said after he finished.

"Good."

Whit started to tape the gauze, but his knee slipped off of the loosely placed bedsheets. He would have fallen if not for Bo wrapping his splinted arm around Whit's waist and steadying him.

"Thanks," Whit grunted as he finished and left the room.

Bo groaned in frustration and pain as he fell back onto his cot.

_I think I may have re-injured my arm just then, _He thought as his broken arm throbbed in protest. He ignored it and went to sleep.

* * *

Whit stood outside his own room, shaking. 

"Get a grip, Whit." He hissed at himself. "The past is the past. You hate him now."

_But you aren't the one who ended it…_ whispered a small voice in the back of his mind.

"No! That's wrong. I hate him for what he did. I could never, ever forgive him for it."

"Talking to yourself? That can't be healthy." Laughed Weira, who had rounded the corner moments before.

Whit stiffened. What had he said aloud and in his mind? He couldn't remember. "Do you need something, Lady?"

"Oh, Lady is it now? You didn't speak so highly of me in the past." She walked up to him and ran a claw up his delicate arm. "Oh, yes, I remember you. I'm sure you think I've forgotten…but I won't ever forget that delicious pain I heard from you as a result of my killing Daichi's little friend." She laughed to herself a bit and walked away.

"W-wait! What do you mean? WHAT DID YOU DO?" Whit yelled after her.

_Was it really not Bo's fault?_

* * *

"Rio…Rio! Rio, wake up!" Someone shook her vigorously. 

"It's not time for work yet, let me sleep!" She tried to roll over, but was rather forced to sit up. She opened her eyes.

"What?" She snapped into Kurama's face. "…Oh…" Recognition dawned on her and she looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine," he rushed. "Hurry, get dressed. You're leaving."


End file.
